


The Most Amazing Things (Some Terrible Lie)

by copperbadge



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Identity Issues, Identity Porn, M/M, Publicity, Secret Identity, unmasking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's decision not to reveal his identity as Iron Man to the world was shrewd and calculated. Too bad it's about to backfire on him like a Jericho missile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is primarily based in the movieverse, but makes use of the situation in 616 where Tony's identity as Iron Man was initially a secret from the world and his teammates, and Iron Man was known primarily as Tony's bodyguard. Also, the title is from "Some Nights" by the band "Fun."; I'm aware that the phrase is "terrible nights" but it sounds like "Lie" so screw reality, the title was too good not to use. 
> 
> Beta thanks to Knotta, Foxy, and Anya for fixing my errors! Any remaining ones are due to my stubborn intransigence, not their brilliant editorial skills.

Standing behind the podium at the press conference, the day after he killed Obadiah, Tony weighed things carefully. He was used to doing that in engineering; not so much in life. Perhaps he ought to start. People seemed to feel impulse control was important. 

"Been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll stick to the cards this time."

He kind of wanted to blow the whole story, if only to piss this Coulson guy off. He could take credit, announce who and what he now was, but -- 

"There's been speculation that I've been involved in the events that occurred on the freeway...and the rooftop..."

There was Pepper standing at the back of the room, watching him, and he'd already put her in danger just by being alive. If he had any compassion he'd fire her. 

"I know it's confusing. It is one thing to question the official story and another thing to make wild accusations." 

He was too selfish for that, but he wasn't so selfish he'd put her in any more danger just to satisfy his ego. 

"The truth is..."

He'd always liked keeping secrets.

"...that this 'Iron Man' -- catchy name, by the way -- has asked for his own sake and for the protection of his loved ones to remain unidentified." 

***

When Iron Man landed in front of Loki in Berlin, Cap said, "Iron Man."

"Captain," Iron Man answered. "Honor to meet you."

When Tony Stark walked onto the debriefing platform on the Helicarrier, Steve Rogers said, "Mr. Stark."

"Steve Rogers," Tony replied. "I heard they thawed you out."

"Met your bodyguard. Guy's a bit of a loose cannon."

"You'll find that's a Stark Industries trademark," Tony said, and continued on his way. "Hey, Point Break," he added to Thor. "Iron Man said to tell you he likes your swing."

***

Bruce Banner met him as a fellow scientist, no undue respect but no disdain. 

"Nah, you see," Bruce said to him in the lab, during the search for the Cube, "I don't get a suit of armor like Iron Man. I don't even get a bodyguard. I'm exposed. Like a nerve. It's a nightmare."

"Wanna see something cool?" Tony said. Bruce looked at him curiously, then nodded. Tony came over to where he was standing and peeled up the t-shirt he was wearing, then the long-sleeved shirt underneath it.

"Is that..." Bruce stared at it, and a look of awe filled his face. "Is that an arc reactor?" he looked up. "What's it doing in your _chest?_ "

"I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart," Tony replied. "This," he tapped it, reassured as ever by the dull thunk, "stops it. It's the same tech that powers War Machine's suit, and Iron Man's." He looked down at the light. "What he does, the way he fights -- it's a terrible privilege. God knows why he still does it. I know it's important that he does."

"But he can control it," Bruce says.

"He learned how."

"I'd like to meet him sometime," Bruce said. "He must be an interesting man."

"I'm sure you will," Tony answered.

***

SHIELD, of course, was aware that Tony was Iron Man; that was unavoidable. But it was a high-level secret, and SHIELD was good at those. Still, he was careful not to slip up around them.

Because Tony Stark was an ass -- he'd made a _career_ of being an ass -- but Iron Man was a hero. Iron Man was allowed to be kind, to be polite, even to be a little hokey sometimes. He fought hard, and he was stubborn, but he also admired Captain America, supported SHIELD, and was more capable than Tony of speaking openly and wholeheartedly about Stark Industries' new agenda of good work and ecological mindfulness. 

In a lot of ways, Tony liked Iron Man better than he liked himself. He understood why SHIELD had said _Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no._

But considering SHIELD knew his secret, he thought it was only fair that he know a few of theirs.

***

"Big man hiding behind a bodyguard," Cap said, circling him, and Tony really _did not_ like people walking behind him, heroic or otherwise. "When Iron Man's not here, what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," Tony answered. 

"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you," Cap said. "You and Iron Man combined."

Tony almost laughed in his face, but instead he went for the throat. " _Knew_ ," he said. "Who do you know now?"

Cap looked like he'd been slapped in the face, but he came right back. "I've read the files, seen the footage. You don't fight. You let him fight for you. That's all he fights for: you and a paycheck. You're just a mechanic, Stark, and he's a mercenary. Don't pretend either of you are heroes."

"Like you?" Tony answered. "I'd be careful when I sling around phrases like _just_ a mechanic. I built Iron Man. My father built you."

***

When Loki's forces attacked the Helicarrier, Tony didn't even bother with an excuse. He'd think one up later. 

"Where's Stark?" Cap demanded, as soon as he was finished checking the relays.

"Safe," Iron Man answered, knocking out the last of the debris. "Think he said he was going to make sure the engines stayed online."

Tony would have added _After all, he's a mechanic, right?_ but Iron Man was nicer than that. 

The suit took a crunching, restarting the propellers, but they got the Carrier back up, at least. Iron Man came flailing back, repulsors flickering and half a dozen warnings flashing on the HUD, and took out the asshole who was trying to kill Captain America. Of course, in doing that, he skidded up against a wall and most of his major systems went down.

"Unnh, fuck," he groaned, and was pleased that the voice modulator was still working. 

"Iron Man?" Cap called, dropping down next to him. 

"My servo autocues are down," Iron Man said.

"Uh..."

"My joints don't work," he translated. "Help me up, please?"

The armor was heavy, without the assistance of the program that responded to his movements. Getting up was hard, but once he was on his feet he could drag it along to the private hangar where the suit was normally kept.

"Can you walk?" Cap asked, a hand hovering over his shoulder.

"Yeah. It's no big deal, it's the suit," Iron Man answered. "Go find Fury."

"I should get Stark -- "

"No, he'll find me. Go on," Iron Man said. "Tell them I'll report when I can."

Cap stopped, swung around, and looked into Iron Man's faceplate. Without the HUD, the eye-slits were tinted glass, but Tony wasn't sure how much he saw. 

"Good work," Cap said, and jogged off down the hallway. Iron Man exhaled and started the long slog to the hangar.

*** 

Tony walked into the briefing with a gash over one eye, hastily cleaned using rubbing alcohol and a rag in the hangar. 

"What happened to you?" Steve asked.

"I got clobbered on my way to the engine room," Tony replied. 

"Did Iron Man find you?"

"Didn't need to, I found him."

"Is he okay?"

Tony looked at Steve's face and saw nothing but worry there. He glanced sidelong at Fury.

"He's fine. Suit's banged up. Couple of hours with a soldering iron, it'll be fine too. I'm running a diagnostic now."

"Where is he?"

"Are you guys pals or something now?" Tony asked. "He's dealing with stuff. Sorry, you're stuck with me."

Steve, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, tell him I'm glad he's fine," he said. 

*** 

It felt cowardly, meeting Loki in the suit. Tony wanted to antagonize him, wanted to scrape up whatever other secrets he might be keeping, and wanted to meet him face to face. But Iron Man wasn't going to sacrifice wearing the suit for that.

It had one other advantage, too. Iron Man set the camera in the suit to a wide-band wireless broadcast, which meant that not only was SHIELD aware of what he was doing, anyone with a television or a working internet connection in Manhattan was, too. 

"You're missing the point," Iron Man said, and Tony enjoyed hearing himself make speeches like this to no end. "There's no throne. We don't like to be ruled. We're uppity, mouthy, independent individuals and we never, ever stop fighting once you piss us off. Even if you get control you can't keep it. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. If we can't protect the Earth you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it. And we won't be alone." 

"How will your friends have time for me," Loki asked, stalking towards him, "when they're so busy fighting you?"

Iron Man heard the whir of the staff powering up, and he felt the impact when it was shoved up against his reactor.

Loki frowned, looked down, and tapped him again.

"Where is your heart?" he asked, looking up.

" _I don't have one_ ," Iron Man snarled, and surged forward. 

Even in the armor, the fight was mismatched. He got in one good hit before Loki grabbed him by the throat.

"You will all fall before me," Loki snarled back, and threw him out the window. 

Whatever Loki had done shorted out his repulsors for a second, but he stabilized before he fell far.

When he reappeared in the window, Loki blanched. 

"I can fly, you moron," Iron Man said. "And by the way -- I will make you pay for Phil Coulson." 

***

When Iron Man locked his mag-pads onto the nuke headed for Manhattan and set his sights on the portal in the sky, Tony briefly regretted not telling the world. 

Oh, it would come out, his identity. He had plans in place for that. Tony Stark would have a state funeral for his services to his country, and he had a request in his will that whatever armor he was in when he died be slagged to ingots and buried with him. People would call Tony a hero. 

But he wouldn't be _around_ for any of it. And that would kind of suck. 

He blacked out to the image of the Chitauri ship exploding. His last thought was the realization that there wouldn't even be a body to bury.

***

Iron Man came to with a jerk and a gasp of pain, and moved so fast he banged his head on the inside of the helmet. 

"Jesus _Christ!_ " he yelled, and heard the voice modulator kick in. "What just happened? Am I dead?"

There was a knock on his helmet as the HUD fired up and he got more visuals back. Cap was looking down at him, grinning.

"You're not dead," he said. "Close call, though. We didn't want to crack the suit, didn't know if you'd survive without it."

"Did we win?" Iron Man asked, bewildered.

"We won," Cap answered. 

"Oh. Yay," Iron Man managed, rolling onto his side. "Good job, guys. I'm gonna take the day off tomorrow, I'm owed a few vacation days."

He had started to push himself up when a pair of giant green hands caught him under his armpits. He was lifted gently into the air and set down on his feet. 

"Hulk save," Hulk rumbled, and Iron Man turned to look up at him.

"Thanks, big guy," he said. The way Hulk was watching him -- 

The wide, blocky green face broke into a grin, and Hulk mimed zipping his lips. Then his head tipped up and he rolled his shoulders, twisting and shrinking until Bruce stood there, barefoot, holding up his pants with one hand. He blinked owlishly at them.

"Dr. Banner," Iron Man said, offering a hand. "Welcome to the saved-the-world club."

"Iron Man," Bruce answered. "Tony said I'd get to meet you sooner or later."

"Looks like it's sooner. Hey, you guys look thrashed," Iron Man said. "There's a shawarma place not far from here. You ever tried shawarma? You'll love it," he assured Cap. 

"We're not finished yet," Thor said ominously. Tony felt like crying.

"And then shawarma after?" he asked plaintively. 

***

He couldn't eat in the suit, of course, which caused some consternation among the others. 

"But you fought too," Cap said, as the food arrived. "You must be starving."

"The suit gives me what I need," Iron Man said, which was technically true; five minutes ago he'd felt a needle prick his wrist as JARVIS administered IV nutrients through the suit's emergency life-support system. "I just wanted an excuse to sit down for a while." 

"Are you mortal within, then?" Thor asked. "You are not armor Stark enchanted to move and speak?"

"Nope. Human as they come," Iron Man replied. 

"Is it..." Cap looked at him, brow furrowed. "Necessary? Is there a reason you can't pop your helmet?"

"Secret identities," Iron Man said. "Learn to love them. I got people to protect."

"Surely you can trust us," Thor said.

"You can't stuff the genie back in the bottle once it's out. Sorry, steel-drivin' man." 

"Nice to meet you, anyway," Bruce said. Apparently Hulk was serious about keeping it a secret. 

"Thanks, Doc. Stark has nothing but good things to say about you." He turned to Steve. "You, on the other hand, he's feeling a little sore at."

"Yeah, I should speak to him," Steve said, which surprised him. "I said some unfair things. Did he. Uh. Mention them to you?"

"I don't pry," Iron Man said. 

"Oh. Well, just so you know. That was a brave thing you did," Steve said around a yawn. 

"Thanks. Hey, the Tower's still mostly standing," Iron Man said. "There's bedrooms for anyone who wants one."

"Stark won't mind?" Natasha asked, giving him one arched eyebrow. She was the only one of them who knew about him, unless she'd told Clint, and apparently she thought he was laying it on thick. Inside the suit, Tony rolled his eyes. 

"Not for you," Iron Man answered. "I have to get back to the Tower anyway, the suit's in miserable shape." He looked around the table. "Come on, little chicks, there's a nice warm nest waiting for us."

***

They parted ways the next morning, mostly, and only reassembled to see Loki off. Tony came instead of Iron Man; it was less conspicuous.

"He sends his regrets," Tony said to Steve. "He took a few days. Probably kicking back in the Bahamas or something."

"Well-earned," Steve answered. "Mr. Stark, about -- what was said on the Helicarrier, what I said -- "

"No hard feelings," Tony said. "Iron Man passed the message along. On either side?"

"None here." Steve held out his hand, and Tony took it. 

"Where are you headed now?" Tony nodded at the bike. "Gonna hit the open road?"

"I thought I might look around," Steve agreed. 

"Stop by if you're in the neighborhood. Bruce is staying at the Tower, and Iron Man'd probably like to see you again." 

"I'll do that. Look after yourself, Stark."

"I pay people to do that," Tony answered with a grin, and went off to shanghai Bruce into his car. 

***

Life went back to normal once Loki was gone, inasmuch as Tony's life could be in any sense considered normal. Supervillains, occasional catastrophes, nothing he couldn't manage on his own. The next time the Avengers were needed en masse was a few months after the Chitauri, when Advanced Idea Mechanics took Chicago hostage.

"What, the entire city?" Iron Man asked from the air, pacing the SHIELD transport jet that was carrying the others. Thor was still in Asgard, but Hawkeye and Widow were always around, and Cap had been back in New York for a few weeks. Tony had personally ensured that Bruce was too happy and distracted to leave New York at all. 

"The entire city," Cap confirmed. 

"How do you even do tha -- wait, I take it back, now I'm thinking up ways," Iron Man added. 

"Don't get ideas," Cap said, sounding amused. Iron Man gave the window of the transport a salute. 

"Who would want to take a city hostage? Too much hard work," Iron Man replied. "I mean, all these plots for world domination. I don't think these people understand the effort involved. Put 'em in charge of Stark Industries for a week, just one company, and they'll cry their evil little eyes out. I'm constantly surprised Mr. Stark doesn't spend all his time on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Oh, will you look at that," he added admiringly, as they approached the place where Chicago ought to be. It was covered with a glowing gold dome; only the tips of two skyscrapers were poking out. 

"Aw man," Hawkeye said, and Iron Man saw his face at the window. "They didn't even get the good suburbs."

"These AIM guys are scientists, right?" Iron Man asked. "Not traditionally known for their awareness of real estate values. You know, I'm almost proud of them. Science is a lofty goal."

"Just not in harness with greed," Cap remarked. 

"Something like that. I'm landing, I'll see you guys on the ground." 

The trick, really, was getting past the force-field. Iron Man's repulsors could punch a hole in it, but not one big enough or for long enough for anyone to pass through. He ended up pulling his gauntlets off and hijacking some spare parts from the transport to get a sustained burst. 

"Will this work?" Cap asked, watching him and Bruce rewire the gloves at a makeshift workbench in the back of the landed transport. 

"It should," Bruce said. "Iron Man, do you want to have Tony look this over?"

"Already transmitting, he's watching in realtime," Iron Man answered. 

"Well, please tell me if he says I'm screwing this up," Bruce replied.

"You seem pretty good at this yourself," Cap remarked. 

"I didn't get the job for my stunning good looks," Iron Man replied. Cap was watching his hands. "My background is in electrical engineering and kicking ass."

Cap grinned. "And you're all out of electrical engineering?"

Iron Man's head jerked up. "Was that a -- did you just make a _They Live_ joke?"

"I've been catching up on uh. Popular culture," Cap said. "It was on TV in a motel I stayed in when I was on the road."

"Oh, Captain, I am so proud of you," Iron Man answered. "Have you discovered Mystery Science Theater yet?"

"No, is it good?" Cap asked.

"We are having a marathon if we survive this," Iron Man replied. "Dr. Banner, you in?"

"I never say no," Bruce replied. "We should invite Tony, too."

"Sure. Have a post saved-the-world-again party," Iron Man said. "Okay, I'm done with this one. Dr. Banner, how's it coming?"

"Call me Bruce. Once I've had my fingers in your circuitry I think we're past formality," Bruce replied, smiling. He tossed the gauntlet to Iron Man, who caught it and pulled it on, engaging the locks.

"Now," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's go beat up some evil nerds." 

*** 

There was a moment during the battle that followed -- a series of dirty street fights to get to the force-field generator, and a vicious scrum to get it shut down -- when Cap took a nasty shot to the head and Iron Man thought he was down. 

Iron Man was trying to handle the super-dorky flying sleds AIM was sending at him. They were like the ones the Chitauri had used but without any style or much substance, and it made him ashamed to be a nerd himself. He was monitoring everyone else too, of course, and so he saw Cap jerk to the side and fall, and he didn't get back up again. Iron Man engaged the one-shot, taking every fucking flying sled out at once, and dropped straight down into the street-level melee, throwing AIM soldiers aside and smashing them into one another to get to Cap.

"Hey, hey, come on, this is pathetic," he said, bending over him, scanning for internal injuries. "Cap, come on, you didn't survive Nazis just to die from a conk on the head by these bozos."

Cap groaned and rolled to the side, which was when Iron Man saw the blood; there was a furrow along the back of his cowl, and blood was seeping out of it. 

"Shit, you were _shot_ ," he said, pressing on the wound.

"M'okay, okay -- ow," Cap managed, struggling to get up. "Just a graze, it'll heal -- "

"Let me get the cowl off," Iron Man urged, peeling it up carefully.

"What happened to...all the..." Cap asked. 

"I took care of it," Iron Man answered.

"Oh. Good. _Ow_ ," he added, as the cowl came off. 

"Well, the reinforced uniform shell did its work," Iron Man said, lifting his hair to study the wound. "It's not deep. Looks like it's healing already." He came around, holding Cap by the shoulders, peering at him through the helmet's eyepieces. "You dizzy? Seeing double?"

"No, I'm okay," Cap said. "Thanks for the save."

"Come on, we're almost to the generator. Let Hulk distract them, I need you to cover me while I deactivate it."

He grasped Cap by the waist, tugged one of his arms over his shoulder, and took off. 

"Oh! Flying!" Cap managed. "Okay, that's...happening..."

"Relax, my maglocks are hooked to your armor. I could let go and you still wouldn't fall," Iron Man said. 

"I trust you," Cap answered. Before Iron Man could formulate a reply, he added, "Hey, pick that guy off for me, I want his gun."

***

They debriefed on the flight back to New York; Bruce was huddled in a blanket and pressed up against Iron Man's side, where the heating element on the suit's external skin could keep him warm. Clint looked after Steve's wound, which mostly consisted of cleaning the blood out of his hair, while Natasha bandaged a nasty scrape on Clint's back. 

"We're approaching Manhattan," the pilot called, a few minutes after the remote debrief ended. "Anyplace you want to set down?"

"Movie night at Stark's place or sleeping forever?" Iron Man asked the others. "Your call."

"Heck, that hardly wore me out," Steve said. "I want to see this mystery movie you talked about."

"Mystery Science Theater," Bruce corrected sleepily. "I'd rather go back to the Tower. Can we stop off there at least?"

"Movies?" Natasha asked. 

"You've found her secret weakness," Clint said. "We're in."

"Cozy," Iron Man answered. "Guys, you can put us down on the Stark helipad. JARVIS, clear them to land." 

"Is Tony around?" Bruce asked. 

"I'm checking," Iron Man replied. "Looks like...not. Calendar says he has a dinner thing. Sorry, doc."

"Well, you did say he's a busy man," Steve said, but he looked a little regretful, too.

***

Bruce knew his way around the penthouse pretty well, considering he was living in one of the guest rooms (now Bruce's Room, Tony had redesignated it in the ground plans), so Iron Man left him to get everyone settled and start up the movie while he went down to the workshop on the excuse that he had to run a diagnostic. JARVIS had already done a remote diagnostic and pronounced the armor undamaged, so it was really just that he needed to raid his lockbox and shove a granola bar in his mouth before pulling the helmet back on and heading up. 

"Mr. Stark's definitely out -- workshop's empty," he said, returning to the penthouse. "He left some surprises for you guys, though."

He skimmed the small envelopes through the air, one to Natasha, one to Clint, one to Steve. Natasha and Clint pulled identical silver keycards out of theirs, and Cap shook a key out into his palm.

"That is Stark's socially maladroit way of inviting you into the clubhouse," Iron Man said, settling down on the floor and leaning back against the couch, between Bruce and Steve. "He's not really very good at touchy-feely."

"Clubhouse?" Steve asked carefully. 

"Stark Tower. He's been setting up living quarters for everyone. You guys have beds and bathrooms down the hall if you want them. Keep the keycards, anyway, never hurts to have a backup." 

"How come mine's different?" Steve asked curiously, studying the key.

"Don't look at me. Probably thought you'd like an old-fashioned key better than a card. Might be a joke," he added, feeling suddenly hesitant. He'd thought Steve would like a real key, even if it had a chip planted in it to open the door. 

"I do," Steve said, and looked down at him. "Sure this wasn't your idea?"

"Stark's the brains of the operation," Iron Man said. He felt one of Steve's hands resting on his helmet.

"Well, tell him thanks," Natasha said. She gave him a knowing grin. "Your boss is secretly a soft touch."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"Do you live here?" Steve asked. 

"Don't see you around much," Bruce added. 

"I have a place down by the workshop. Easier access to the suit," Iron Man replied. "Besides, trust me, none of you want to see my epic morning bedhead." 

*** 

It got to be something of a tradition after that, especially after the others moved in. They'd return from a fight and separate briefly, to wash and change clothes, and then they'd all just sort of...drift back into the living room. They didn't really take turns picking movies so much as defer to whoever had gotten the worst of it in the fight. Iron Man would settle in on the floor against the sofa, and Steve would rest his hand on his helmet, and sometimes some of them would fall asleep during the movie. 

Tony didn't socialize with the Avengers, except for Bruce. For all he'd invited them into his home, he didn't see any reason for much contact. If he ran into one of them eating breakfast or something, he'd nod and say hello, but there wasn't a point to anything more. If they asked after Iron Man he'd make sure that Iron Man put in an appearance soon after, and they actually liked Iron Man, so that was fine. 

(Pepper told him he was isolating himself, and asked him if he was scared of making friends. Tony told her she was delusional and threatened to fire her as CEO, which always made her laugh.)

Besides, he had a day job and worked odd hours, so except for marathon Science Parties with Bruce, he pretty much kept to himself. 

Anyway, it worked. Six months in and they hadn't yet killed each other. Eight months in and he couldn't imagine Iron Man without the close-knit, contentious little family they'd all built together. 

***

Tony was coming up from an early morning in the workshop when he heard Bruce and Steve in the kitchen; he'd been thinking about getting coffee, but maybe he should just make some in his suite. 

"...get to know him, Tony's a nice guy," Bruce was saying, and Tony paused in the hallway.

"Nobody's saying he isn't, but I don't think he wants to," Steve answered. "Whenever he sees me he says hi and then bolts. I just want to make sure he doesn't think I have it in for him."

"Tony's not a grudge-y type. And if he thought you were sulking for some reason, he'd come around more just to piss you off," Bruce replied. "Emotional warfare is how he shows affection."

"Maybe it's strange for him. Because I knew his dad, y'know."

"Tony doesn't really keep company with the Avengers. I don't think it's you," Bruce said. 

"Well, all right. Still, I need to talk to him. You know him better than I do. He have a favorite lunch joint?"

"Yeah, the corner of his workbench," Bruce said with a laugh. "We don't go out much. Check with Iron Man, he probably knows."

"Or you could ask," Tony said, because he did love to make an entrance. "What's up, Capsicle? The new StarkPhone software update mess up your apps? We've had some issues with the Personal Vibrator app. Who knew phones as sex toys was a thing? Killer on the battery," he added, pouring himself some coffee. 

"Mr. Stark," Steve said, startled. 

"Tony's fine," Tony said, sipping his coffee. "What'd you need to talk to me about?"

"Ah...uh..." Steve glanced at Bruce, who stood up.

"I'll clear out -- "

"No, I have to get back downstairs, just came to tank up. Come along," Tony invited, gesturing with his mug. "Have you even seen the workshop?"

"Where you fix Iron Man's suit?" Steve asked, following him.

"Among other things," Tony replied, keying in his security code and taking the stairway down to the workshop level. "Fast access so if JARVIS goes down I can get to the shop without crawling down an elevator shaft," he added, when Steve gave him a questioning look.

"You think of everything."

"I try. Pays to be paranoid," Tony said, arriving at the workshop door and standing still for the biometrics scan. "Come into the wonder house."

Steve walked inside like a cautious cat, taking in everything, almost hesitant in his movements. Tony brushed a corner of his workbench clear and lifted himself up, legs swinging off the edge. "So. What did you need to talk about without Bruce around?"

"I...had some questions," Steve said. He looked adorably determined. "About Iron Man. You don't have to answer them, but I needed to ask."

"Why not ask him?"

"I've tried. We only -- we only asked him once if he'd tell us who he was, and he said no, and you have to respect that," Cap continued. "But I've asked him a few times if he -- if the suit keeps him alive, or if he can survive out of it. He won't give me a straight answer."

"Have to say, I won't either unless you can give me a reason," Tony said. 

"I...well...when I woke up," Steve said. "Sorry, I have to explain this right. You can keep a secret, right? You must, you know who he is -- "

"I can keep a secret, Cap. Got a few of my own."

"So -- when I woke up everything was different, social things were different -- "

Tony could almost see where this was going, was slotting the puzzle pieces together in his head, when the klaxon in the workshop began to blare. Steve jerked around, towards the source. 

" _Call to Assemble_ ," JARVIS announced over the speakers.

"Damn," Steve said emphatically. 

"Go," Tony ordered. "I'll call Iron Man. Go, Cap, we'll talk later," he added, practically shoving the man out of his workshop. Once Cap was gone, he ducked through the access door into the suit room and ran for the loading platform.

"JARVIS, was that about what I think it was about?" he asked, as the suit went on over his work clothes.

"I'm sure I couldn't say, sir," JARVIS replied.

"I'm sure you could, you're just uppity."

"If I may, sir," JARVIS said, as Tony lifted off and the iris of the entry port opened. "Discussion with a being modeled on one's own neural processes is not likely to be more helpful than talking to oneself."

"Smartass," Tony muttered, and caught up with the minijet, already aimed south. 

***

Afterward, Iron Man's recollections were patchy. He could remember what had happened directly following the concussion, but his short-term memory prior to that had been written over or erased completely. There was a wide, blank space in his mind between pacing the jet over Delaware and getting his head bashed in on the Virginia Beach expressway. 

His first memory was of tumbling through the air, not falling so much as skidding parallel to the ground. Then actual skidding, the armor flipping over and over, Iron Man buffered only by the suit's internal shielding and then not even much by that. He must have taken a head shot from whatever they were fighting, but he did another header into a building, colliding with a girder face-first. 

He had no recollection of where he was or what he was doing, only the knowledge that he must be in a fight. A fight or a flashback; he couldn't think clearly, couldn't see the HUD, and suddenly couldn't breathe.

His header into the girder had stopped his forward momentum, but it had also shoved his faceplate inwards. The metal hadn't snapped but it had dented under the strain, one of the lower plates pushing up into his jaw. He tried to get his mouth open and the jagged pain raced along his throat, throbbing in his temples. He clamped his mouth shut and focused on breathing through his nose, but the mouthpiece was bent shut and very little air was getting in. 

The suit had no power. He could feel the reactor humming in his chest, but it must have reverted to emergency life support mode -- preserving every last ounce of remaining energy to keep the magnet next to his heart going. And he couldn't override life support with his mouth clamped firmly shut. And without air...

He reached up, clawing at the jawpiece of the helmet, but with the suit out of juice there wasn't much he could do. Blood was clogging his nose -- 

"Iron Man? _Iron Man!_ "

He heard the frantic yell over his own rasping snorts, and then there were hands pinning his wrists back. He fought, momentarily, desperate to get the helmet off, but they had him down and his vision was starting to narrow to pinpricks. 

Something clanked. From far off he heard metal rasping, and then felt pressure against his lips -- a hard ridge that tasted like steel -- 

It registered as the shield, Cap's shield, just as his helmet creaked ominously and with one final burst of screaming pain the faceplate was pried free.

Iron Man jerked his head back, away from the sharp edge of the jawpiece, and gasped in a full lungful of air. His chest heaved inside the suit and he sucked in a second whistling breath, a third.

"Stark?" someone asked uncertainly. "Stark, what the _hell_ are you doing in the suit?"

He could talk or he could breathe, so he focused on breathing. His vision had cleared, but now instead of tunnelling down it was going grey, his ears buzzing, the world starting to spin. 

"He's hyperventilating. Tony, Tony, listen to me," someone else said. Black Widow; had to be. "You have to slow down. Breathe with me, okay?"

"Why's he in the suit?" Cap asked, even as he bent down and Tony could feel something clearing the blood from his face, from his nostrils. 

"Shh, don't talk right now," Black Widow urged, and Tony managed to find her face in the haze. "Ready, Tony? In -- slowly -- out. Match my breathing. In, out." 

He tried but his lungs wanted more air, and he couldn't quite seem to find a rhythm. Then there were new voices, shouting, and something plastic was pressed to his face. Sweet, clean oxygen, pure enough to give a natural high. 

The haze lifted off slowly. He heard one man say, "We can't get him onto a stretcher in the armor." He was mostly sure he didn't need one; the only real damage had been to the jawpiece. Scalp injuries always looked worse than they were. Still, he could feel the sting of alcohol on his face where the blood had been cleaned off, and Cap was using another one to clean off his throat. He held up a hand, waving to try and get the attention of the SHIELD medic bent over him, and then pointed at the oxygen mask. The man sat back on his heels, easing it off Tony's face.

"I'm okay," he croaked, pushing himself up on an elbow. He gestured at his face. "It's..." he groped for a word and finally settled on, "...cosmetic."

"Sir, can you get the armor off?" the man asked. Tony could see Cap standing above him, looking confused and upset. 

"There are releases. I need power," Tony rasped. "Anybody got a taser?"

"A _taser?_ " the man asked. 

"Here," Black Widow said, slipping the electric sting off her left wrist. "Where do you want it?"

"Arc reactor," Tony answered. He triggered the emergency shielding release, and the shatterproof plate slid up. "Right there. Three seconds."

Black Widow nodded and, bless her, slammed the sting down before he could tense up. His body arched against the armor, every muscle going taut, but three interminable seconds later the armor was rebooting, the locks clicking off one by one. He shoved the breastplate off, then the gloves, using his hands to pull himself out of the lower half. 

"Get the armor crated, the field team will have something," Tony said, standing, one of Cap's hands on his elbow. The medic nodded and hurried off. Widow had vanished too, probably to make sure the area stayed clear. Which left him and Cap, standing over the shell of the armor.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Cap asked, releasing him and turning to face him. "Stark, you have a _heart condition_. Jesus, you're still bleeding," he added, stepping closer, taking another alcohol wipe out of his field belt. 

"Did you not just see -- "

"You're shaking -- you're going into shock," Cap interrupted. He unzipped the uniform jacket, shrugging out of it and wrapping it around Tony's admittedly freezing shoulders. He took Tony's head in his hands, studying his eyes. "Are you concussed?"

"I don't know," Tony answered. "I think so."

"Sit down. Over here," Cap replied, leading him to a reasonably level piece of concrete that had fallen sideways into the building. "The medics will be back, they'll look you over properly."

"I'm fine," Tony said irritably. 

"What was going through your head?" Cap asked. 

"Bad guys," Tony waved a hand. 

"Stark, you're a civilian. If Iron Man wasn't available, we could have fought without -- "

"Don't you get it?" Tony asked, aware that it hurt to talk. "I'm him, Cap, he's me. I'm Iron Man." 

Cap looked at him, brows drawing together. 

"I always have been," Tony said miserably, aware that his hair was matted with sweat and he was bleeding onto the undersuit he wore. 

"But you're -- you're a billionaire. A politician. You don't even like us, you only ever helped us because Iron Man and Bruce..." Cap's eyes got dark and worried. "You? All this time? With your heart, and -- "

"My heart is fine." Tony thumped the reactor. "It's protected. You don't even wear armor. You fight in _tights_." 

"I'm going to let that slide," Cap answered. "Stark -- Iron Man -- that's why you wouldn't crack your helmet, isn't it? You didn't want us to know it was you."

"Iron Man's reasons were good reasons."

"Excuses."

"Reasons," Tony insisted. He let his head rest in his hands, suddenly too heavy to keep upright. After a few seconds he felt Cap's glove resting on the back of his head, thumb brushing a soothing arc against the tense muscles just above his neck. 

"We're going to get you patched up," Cap said quietly. "You're going to get looked over, treated if necessary, and disinfected. Then we're going to take you home and we're all going to get some rest, and tomorrow you and I are going to have a very long discussion about all this. Rest for now. We'll sort it out later." 

The medics, Tony saw, were on their way back with a gurney; Cap helped him up and walked him out past the rubble, both of them squinting in the sudden light. The battle must be over, Tony thought. 

"Yeah," Cap replied, in a somewhat ominous voice.

"How much of what I think is coming out of my mouth right now?" Tony asked. 

"Not too much, don't worry," Cap said, and turned him around before they reached the gurney, wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders. Tony leaned into the embrace, exhausted and still a little bewildered. 

"I've wanted to do that for a while," Cap said in his ear. "Give Iron Man a hug without the armor." 

Tony just buried his nose in the soft undershell of Cap's uniform and let him decide when he was done, following the motion as he was eased onto the gurney. There was a jolt, and then something warm was pulled over him, and he passed out.

***

When Tony woke again, it was to the smell of hospital disinfectant and industrial laundry soap. 

Most of the injuries Iron Man usually took in battle were soft-tissue, bruises and sprains. He'd installed a medical module in JARVIS to scan for internal injuries, but he'd been lucky so far. He was conscientious, really. He always got a scan after a battle, and he made sure to treat any wounds he'd received. And, in theory, even if he did have a major injury, he could get treatment discreetly from Tony Stark's private physician. 

But he was in the hospital. And before that -- he remembered the touch of metal on his lips, the pained gasps for breath...

"Anthony?" a voice said softly.

He startled, hands coming up instinctively into Iron Man's defensive pose, right forward, left back and cocked. Steve was there, and for a second Tony couldn't remember if he was Steve or Cap -- no, he was in civs, that was Steve -- 

"Easy, easy," Steve said, his own hands rising. "It's just me." 

Tony swallowed, registering pain, and lifted one hand to his throat. There was a bandage, soft and slick, from just below the point of his chin to halfway down his neck. His head ached. 

"The armor sliced you," Steve said. Tony blinked at him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Some," Tony rasped. "Nothing before getting..." he coughed and choked, weakly, "...thrown into a building."

"You weren't thrown," Steve said. "Well, more like blown."

Tony made an interrogatory noise. 

"You touched off a bomb that blew you through a wall," Steve said. "And then down the freeway and into another wall. They said you might not remember. You bashed your head pretty solidly. Took half the terrorists with you, though, and SHIELD rounded up the other half."

"Net gain," Tony managed.

"No," Steve said, looking sad. "Not really."

"I'll be fine," he replied, but it came out more like a question. 

"Yeah. More or less. They say you can go once they do a few exams," Steve said, and stood up. Tony looked up at him. From this angle, he looked enormous -- larger than life. Cap, not Steve. Iron Man should be here. 

"I'll let them know you're awake," Cap said, and left. 

He didn't really expect Cap to come back. He expected Pepper would be there to yell at him or Sitwell to look constipated at him. Instead it was Steve, who came back with a doctor in SHIELD-logo scrubs -- they must be in the medical wing on the Carrier. 

"Mr. Stark," the doctor said, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Disoriented," Tony said.

"I can imagine. I'd like to do a neurological exam, but we don't have any particular quick-fix treatments for concussion. I imagine you'd like to get home," she continued. 

"Yes," he croaked.

"Fine. Captain, if you'd clear the room -- "

"I'd like to stay," Steve said. 

The doctor glanced at Tony. He nodded. 

"All right then," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Eyes on my finger, please..."

He was sure he aced the exam; he usually tested well. And she let him go, so he must have at least looked pretty while doing it. His thoughts felt jumbled, and he missed their usual sleek linear logic. He felt like there was something to this whole equation that he was missing. On the other hand, every time he had what seemed like an important thought, it flitted out of his head. So he let Steve put a pair of SHIELD uniform boots on his feet and lead him down the hall towards one of the hangars, where Clint -- Clint or Hawkeye? He wasn't in uniform, but he was in the pilot's seat...Clint or Hawkeye....

He snapped out of it to find Steve buckling him in like a child. It occurred to him that at some point Steve had also slung his Captain America uniform jacket around Tony's shoulders again. 

"Is it Clint or Hawkeye?" he asked Steve in a whisper. 

"Hm?" Steve looked up at him, big blue eyes curious.

"Never mind," Tony replied, and huddled down into the jacket. Steve climbed in next to him and pulled the hatch closed, and Tony fought nausea as they lifted off.

About five minutes later, he discovered that he didn't know where his armor was. He panicked.

"Where's my armor?" he asked, and didn't wait for them to answer, twisting in the seat to see if he could see it. "What happened to the armor, is it here? They didn't leave it there, did th -- "

"Sit still," Steve commanded, as another wave of nausea hit. "It's safe."

" _Where?_ "

"It's in the back," Clint called. "No worries, we got this."

"You're sure?"

"Promise," Steve said. A promise from Captain America was one you could take to the bank.

"By the way," Clint called, "You are on my shit list forever, right behind Natasha."

Tony frowned, uncertain why for a minute, and then nodded. Natasha hadn't told him about Iron Man. "Fair enough," he said. 

They touched down on the Stark Tower helipad a few minutes later. Tony was out of his harness and into the back, looking for the armor's crate, before Clint had even powered down the engines. There were two large plastic crates stamped STARK - EYES ONLY and when he opened the lid of one of them, dented gold and filthy red gleamed out at him. 

"Come on," Steve said, taking him by one arm and easing him away. "Thor and Natasha will take them down to the workshop. You're going to bed."

"Aren't you supposed to keep me awake?" Tony asked, and then winced. "That wasn't a pass."

"A what?" Steve asked, looking perplexed.

"Concussion," Tony tried.

"I dunno, the doctor said that's an old superstition. She said to let you sleep, just make sure someone checks on you once in a while. Ms. Potts is on her way in from California," he added, and Tony remembered that Pepper had been on the other coast. Beautiful, competent, tolerant Pepper. 

"I need a drink," he muttered, as Steve let him down the hall to his room.

"That's so far from what you need it's a miracle you can say those words," Steve replied, helping him onto his bed. He crouched, tugging the boots off, then pulled the blanket up over Tony as he lay down. 

He meant to ask, _Why are you doing this?_ because he was very confused, but when he looked up and squinted at Steve, it just came out, "Why?"

Steve crouched, tilting his head.

"I am so angry with Mr. Stark I can hardly see straight," he said calmly. "But Iron Man's my pal, and he's having a rough day, so he comes first." He straightened the blanket. "Get some rest."

Tony closed his eyes. The world was swaying gently, but he'd had worse than this in his hard-drinking days. He let the warmth and the darkness draw him down.


	2. Chapter 2

He had a vague dream of being in pain, struggling out of unconsciousness, and of someone feeding him something followed by cold water. If it weren't for the clean, crisp taste of the water, without the stale brackish bite from the cave, he might have thought he was back in Afghanistan, and the man looking after him was Yinsen, forcing expired and stolen antibiotics down his throat. 

When he woke, his first thought was that he had to find out what he'd been drinking so that he could avoid it for the rest of his life. Even tequila didn't give a kick like this hangover. 

JARVIS, mercilessly, said "Good morning, sir. Shall I alert Captain Rogers that you are awake?"

Tony tried to say "Jesus Christ no, why would you do that?" but pain lanced along his jaw, and it came out more like "Jesarrrrgh."

JARVIS must have misinterpreted it as a yes, because he said "Notifying!" crisply. The door opened almost immediately, and the whole horrifying day came rushing back at him. He clenched his hands over his face, curled up in the blankets, and whimpered. 

"Painkiller," Steve said, pushing gently on his shoulder. Tony groaned and rolled onto his back, pushing himself up. He ached everywhere, and there were splotchy purple bruises on his arms. Still, he took the pill sitting in Steve's palm and downed it with a half-full glass of water sitting on the bedside table. "You want to get some more rest?"

Tony grunted, shaking his head slightly. Talking hurt, clearly, and was only going to get him into trouble anyway. 

"The rest of the team has debriefed," Steve said, sitting carefully on the very edge of the bed. "The mission is technically a success. No civilian casualties. Do you remember...?"

Tony shook his head again. 

"Well, there's a full report on the Avengers server," Steve told him. Tony could remember a time when Steve thought the server was an actual server, a robot that served them information -- like there was a library somewhere that all their information went into, and the robot ran around fetching it. Listening to Steve try to explain his idea of a server, it had been _so hard_ not to laugh. 

"Ms. Potts wants to see you, if you feel up to it," Steve continued. "The others too, but I think she wants first crack."

Tony nodded. "Sorry...voice is a little rusty," he managed. 

"It's fine. So I should send her in?"

"Yes, please."

Steve nodded and stood up, walking to the doorway. He stepped out, and a moment later Pepper stepped inside, carrying a StarkPad under one arm. 

"Hey," she said softly, coming to the bed.

"It's cosmetic," he told her.

"Sure," she replied, with her I-don't-believe-you smile. She settled down on the bed, curling up next to him and propping the StarkPad on her legs. "Steve said we shouldn't upset you," she said, "but you need to see this. I need you to tell me what you want done."

She pulled up a grainy photograph, clearly a cellphone picture. Iron Man lay in the rubble from the crash; Widow was crouched near his head and Cap was straddling his chest, shield in one hand, faceplate in the other. His head was tipped back, but his profile was clear -- that was his face, goatee and all, visible inside the suit. 

"Shit," he murmured. "Where -- "

"It's on every news blog."

"Pep, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said. "We knew the risks."

"The stock -- "

"Don't worry about it."

"How far?"

She chewed on her lip before looking at him and replying. "Sixty-four points."

"Christ."

"It'll rebound."

"No covering this up, I guess. No claiming it's a 'shop or -- "

"If you take a picture with Iron Man now, they know it could be anyone in the suit. That's a picture of you in the armor, Tony. There's no pulling back. You're officially public."

He leaned forward, head cradled in his hands. 

"I need to know if you want to issue a statement, or if we have no comment," she said gently. "If you're going to go wide, I have to start booking talk shows. Otherwise I need to get together with SHIELD and work out a party line for how to handle it. You don't have to write the spin, Tony," she added, when he groaned. "You just have to decide how you want it managed."

"I have some thoughts on that," said a new voice, and Tony looked up to see Steve in the doorway. Pepper tensed next to him. 

"Now's not the time for -- "

"I'm not here to yell," Steve said calmly. "But I think -- if you want -- I can provide a distraction."

Tony glanced at Pepper, who had her eyebrows raised. He was barely following this conversation.

"Iron Man and I are the only ones with private identities, aside from Bruce," Steve continued. "If I go public in solidarity, it'll take the heat off, at least a little. And Captain America endorsing Iron Man's pilot can go a long way towards reassuring your stockholders, right?"

"You don't have to do this," Pepper said. 

"I've been thinking about it anyway," Steve said.

"But you're pissed at me," Tony managed. 

"Some things are more important," Steve replied evenly. 

"Don't do it."

"It's not really your choice, Stark. You can't stop me if I want to. This is a courtesy, so you can factor it into your..." he gestured at the StarkPad, "...your spin. It's already set up."

"That could work," Pepper said, turning to Tony. "Strategically, it's probably the best option we're going to have."

"This isn't strategy, it's his life," Tony answered. The idea of Cap and Steve being one person was unreasonably frightening. All the walls were tumbling down, his neat divisions crumbling. 

"Yeah, it's mine," Steve said. "I make my own decisions. Ms. Potts, let's speak in a little while."

"Thank you, Steve," she said softly. 

"My pleasure, ma'am. Stark, get some more rest," Steve added, and shut the door with a soft click. 

Tony heaved a breath and turned on his side. "JARVIS, television. You'll know which station."

"Television?" Pepper asked. 

"Steve isn't the kind of guy to wait for an engraved invitation once he's made up his mind," Tony said. "Also, he's not subtle. Had the uniform on under his hoodie."

Pepper turned then too, and Tony rested his chin on her shoulder as the television flickered to life. They could see the front of Stark Tower, the tall glass-and-brass doors and the granite lobby, and a podium in front of it, microphones in a cluster on the top. 

"Oh, no," Pepper said, as Captain America walked out in uniform, no hoodie now, shield slung on his shoulders.

"Oh yes," Tony said, and he couldn't help but feel a little hint of glee in all the regret. So few people really understood what they were getting into when they went toe to toe with Captain America. 

"Good afternoon," Cap said, standing in front of the podium. "Everyone hear me okay?"

There was a ripple of affirmatives, but over the top of it were shouted questions, and Cap held up his hands. 

"I understand SHIELD has made an official statement about the Avengers action yesterday in Norfolk," he said, as everyone settled down. "I'd like to confirm that the mission was considered a success. There were no civilian casualties that we're aware of, and the remaining alleged terrorists have been held pending a full legal inquiry. I can also confirm that Iron Man, while injured -- " 

Another clamor of questions, and Cap just waited calmly until they fell quiet under his stare.

"While injured by the blast, Iron Man has been checked over by SHIELD medical and is making a full recovery. He's upstairs now, in fact," he added, jerking a thumb at the building behind him, and a few people laughed. "Now, I know you have a lot of questions. I'm going to tell you what I can. I can confirm that Anthony Stark is Iron Man."

"He called me Anthony," Tony said quietly. "In medical. Just the once."

"Doesn't know you well enough to call you Tony."

"Or he knows me too well," Tony sighed. 

On the television, Cap was still talking. "I know that this is a surprise to a lot of people, but I'd like everyone to remember that Iron Man is an Avenger. We're proud to count him in our ranks, as we have and as we will continue to do. Once he gets over the concussion, anyway," he added with a little smile. 

"That son of a bitch," Pepper said admiringly. "He's a natural."

"Did a lot of bond sales during the war," Tony said absently. 

"I understand that some people see this as reason to lack faith," Cap continued. "Reason to mistrust Iron Man. Or to mistrust Mr. Stark. I don't see that. What I see is a man who could easily have hired someone to do the dangerous work we do, or could have simply...not done it at all. He made a choice to act as a patriot. In defense of his country."

"How long have you known?" someone called, and Cap shook his head.

"The private interactions of the Avengers have no bearing on the actions of the team," he said.

"Will Mr. Stark continue to act as Iron Man?"

"Certainly we have no intention of asking him to step down," Cap replied. "If and when he chooses to retire, we'll respect that. Frankly, I hope it's not anytime soon. We need Iron Man. Look, I know you have more questions," he added, over the voices calling them out now. "I don't want this to be a Q&A about Mr. Stark because I'm not authorized to speak on his behalf. I'm not really here to speak about him at all."

That shut them up. 

"The fact that Mr. Stark didn't actively decide to have his identity as Iron Man made public has cemented, for me, something I've been considering for a long time," Cap said. "Each of us has made a choice, to fight masked or unmasked. You know Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton and Thor because they chose to show their faces, and that's something to respect. For us -- for Iron Man and myself -- we've had to choose every time whether to keep our private lives private."

He frowned and ducked his head, the first sign of hesitation Tony had seen in him.

"I think you all know the story of Captain America. A man named Steve Rogers, who wanted to fight in the war, was given an experimental treatment which allowed him to be a symbol that this country needed. Maybe that wasn't exactly what he wanted and maybe it wasn't fair to put him over the men who fought and died in that war, to put him up as a symbol, but it's what happened. The uniform..." he gestured at the star on his chest. "It's something to live up to. But the whole story is that the treatment which got Steve Rogers from a kid in Brooklyn to a soldier in Italy and Germany also allowed him to survive the crash in 1944, when he was considered lost in the arctic circle. It preserved his body during the..."

Cap shook his head. "He spent seventy years in the ice. Recently he was discovered by a Stark polar expedition. When the ice thawed, SHIELD medical were able to revive him."

A murmur went through the gathered reporters. 

"Will you be stepping down as Captain America, sir?" someone called.

Cap shook his head.

"Two Captain Americas?" another reporter asked. 

"No. As I said -- we've all made a choice. Mr. Stark didn't properly get his choice, so I thought it was time I made mine," Cap said, and reached up, hooking his fingers in the edge of the cowl. He pulled it up and off, and his hair fell messily in his eyes until his other hand came up to smooth it down.

"I'm not the latest Captain America. My name is Steve Rogers," he said, "and I am the only Captain America."

"Oscar-worthy performance," Tony murmured, as the reporters went nuts. "JARVIS, turn it off."

"But he's not done yet," Pepper said.

"He'll be answering questions for an hour. We saw what he wanted us to see," Tony said, shifting away from her, sliding down under the blankets. "You need anything else from me?"

"No," she said softly, stroking his hair down as she got off the bed. "The Captain and I will take it from here."

"Don't deserve either one of you," Tony said, as Pepper opened the door. He heard her laughing at him as she left. 

***

The room was dark when Tony woke again, no light in the windows. When he moved, the illuminated clock in the wall said it was close to midnight. 

He lay there for a few minutes, getting his bearings. He felt better; stiff and sore, but comfortable in his skin again, and his thoughts were clearer. He rolled out of the bed carefully.

"Good evening, sir," JARVIS said quietly.

"Privacy," Tony replied, and JARVIS obediently fell silent. Tony staggered to the bathroom and flicked the lights on. 

He felt grimy, and his hair was matted where it didn't stick out crazily. He showered on autopilot, peeling the bandage off his throat when it got wet, and dripped his way to the sink, wrapping a towel around his waist. 

It hurt vaguely to tilt his head up, but he stood before the mirror and studied the damage. A shallow cut on his throat led into a deeper gash on the underside of his chin, with a row of neat blue stitches. Well, maybe he'd have a dashing scar. At any rate, he'd have to rework the helmet. A shot like that was one in a million, but it could happen. He could rework the jawpiece, maybe build in a release so that if it crumpled it would automatically fall away. On the other hand, he didn't want a stray punch buckling his entire helmet. Maybe just some strategic reinforcement. He'd put JARVIS on stress-testing a few alloys. 

When he lowered his head, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark and huge, hair plastered down wetly. He touched his mouth, picturing the narrow, flat slit of the mask over his lips, the glowing light of the eyes over his own. Tony Stark, wastrel billionaire; not Iron Man, the polite, kind, courageous hero with the ageless gold face. 

"I am Iron Man," he tried, and the words felt strange in his mouth. He hadn't ever said them without the suit.

He put on a pair of track pants that he usually reserved for wearing in the workshop, shrugging into a t-shirt and then, to cover up the bruises, an old sweater. 

He had his own kitchen, of course, but it was dark and silent too; the Avengers shared one out in the common area, and he knew from Iron Man's experience that someone was bound to be up and around -- none of them kept regular schedules, and some didn't need that much sleep.

Better to get it over with, perhaps. 

The living room was dark, but the kitchen was glowing yellow. When he lingered near the doorway he saw Bruce fixing coffee, and Steve sitting at the kitchen table, working on a StarkPad with a stylus. Steve looked up, fuck his super-soldier hearing, and Bruce caught the motion. Tony stayed where he was. 

"Ah," Bruce said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Tony. Hi."

"Awkward," Tony murmured. "Hi."

"Feeling better?" Bruce asked. 

"Yeah. Head's out of the clouds, for now," Tony replied. 

"Good. Well, if you need the stitches looked at, let me know. I'm going to..." Bruce gestured at the doorway. 

"You don't have to -- "

"Oh, believe me, I very much do," Bruce answered. He pressed the coffee into Tony's hand as he left. Tony looked down at it, gave a mental shrug, and sipped. Steve was still watching him. Tony sidled around the kitchen table and sat on the other side from him, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. Steve put his stylus down. 

"Drawing?" Tony asked. 

"Not getting very far," Steve replied, setting the StarkPad aside too. "Lot on my mind."

"I saw the press conference."

"How's your stock doing?"

"Guess I'll find out when the market opens. Doesn't matter. Pepper and I hold a controlling interest in the company." Tony sipped his coffee. "So do we talk about it now?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "I don't know how to talk to you. I barely know you."

"I could go get the helmet, if that would help."

Steve bowed his head, lacing his fingers behind his neck. "I am irrationally angry with you. My anger with what you did is out of proportion to your actual act. And I've got zero room to talk, this afternoon made that very clear."

"I'm aware there's a difference between hiding your name from the media and hiding it from your teammates," Tony said. "Just so we're clear. I'm not throwing that in your face."

"You still did it."

"Yeah, well."

"You're not sorry, are you?"

"No. I did what I felt was necessary." 

"To protect us, or to protect -- " Steve broke off with a frustrated noise. "I can't _do_ this. You're..." he let his hands fall, raising his head again. "When I look at you I see his boss. I see the guy I thought Iron Man sweet-talked into letting us stay here. I wasn't sure Iron Man liked you, to be honest. I wasn't sure you liked me." He sighed. "I don't even know what to call you."

"Well, as nice as Anthony sounds, pretty much everyone just calls me Tony," Tony said. "Unless you want to go with Stark, which does have a sort of military ring to it, kind of suits you. But I think Mr. Stark would probably be ludicrous once you get comfortable enough to really lose your shit at me."

Steve was quiet, looking down at his hands.

"My reasons were not excuses," Tony said. Silence. "You can think what you like about trust or lies or hypocrisy but the truth is I did it, and it's done. I appreciate you taking some of the heat but I'm not going to mewl for your forgiveness out of gratitude. That was your decision. I didn't ask you to. In fact, I told you not to. So we have to figure something out and if that involves yelling at me you're just going to have to get comfortable with it." 

Steve rubbed his eyes. 

"I'm still Iron Man," Tony said. "At least, you know, now you can be sure I'm not fighting for a paycheck. Hedonism may be one of my sins, but greed is not. Well, not anymore."

"I haven't thought that in a long time."

"I'm glad to hear it," Tony said. He took another sip of coffee, suddenly angry himself. "What exactly do you want from me, Winghead? Catharsis? Have at it. Misery? Trust me, I've got it covered. You want to go a few rounds? I'll need the suit, but I'm thinking right now you might like to take a few swings at the suit." 

"You don't get it, do you?" Steve asked sharply. Ah, now they were getting somewhere.

"So explain it to me. I'm a genius, pretty sure I can follow along," Tony retorted. 

"You are so _infuriating_ \-- "

"Welcome to the sideshow. Iron Man gets to be the nice guy. I don't have that luxury."

"Nice is certainly a relative term around you."

"In case you hadn't noticed, the gloves are off," Tony said, holding up his hands. "Let's go."

"Shut up!" Steve said, not loudly but certainly intensely enough that Tony closed his mouth on instinct. "Just shut up and let me think for two minutes together, for Christ's sake." 

Tony fell silent, but he sipped his coffee really loudly. Steve looked up at him, eyes narrowed. 

"What do you think I was trying to say to you in the workshop, before all this?" he asked finally.

"I genuinely have no idea," Tony said. "Seriously, what do you want here? Give me a clue."

"What I want," Steve snorted. "What I want -- wanted -- what I wanted from him..." he shook his head. "What I wanted from you...I just wanted to see who you were. I wanted to touch you without the armor in the way. Do you -- do you remember Chicago? When you took your gloves off. You had hands. Normal, human hands. No scars, no wires, just...hands."

He reached out, slowly, telegraphing his actions enough that Tony didn't move. He took Tony's left hand, fingers cradling the knuckles, thumb curling around to press hard into the pad of flesh below his index finger. 

"I wanted to touch your hands, but you were working," he said quietly. He pressed gently on the muscle, and then traced the crease up the webbing between index and middle finger. "I wanted you to trust us enough to take off the armor, if you could survive without it. All I have wanted from you for months is to know who you are because you wanted me to, and then when I finally got that faceplate off, you were hurt. I was scared. And I didn't even know if I had a right to be scared because suddenly you weren't my friend Iron Man, you were Tony Stark. You're not the kind of man who needs -- who needs guys like us. You're not a working stiff like I thought he was. And I felt like a fool for even thinking I was..."

He shrugged, letting go of Tony's hand. 

"I thought you were a guy a genius paid to be his bodyguard. If I knew you were the genius I wouldn't have presumed." 

"Presumed what?" Tony asked, bewildered. 

Steve let his hands fall to his lap, looking down. "Point is, we need you more than you need us."

"Wow, have you not been paying attention on an epic scale," Tony said. "I moved you into my home. I wore the uniform just to be around you. I am a needy, messed-up asshole, and this right here, what you're doing right now, is just one of many reasons I kept the faceplate down. You think I'm some kind of elite untouchable? You're _Captain America._ I'm short and mouthy and I dye the premature grey out of my hair." 

Steve still wasn't looking at him, but his mouth curved up a little. "Premature, huh?"

"I'm thirty-seven. You try running a multibillion-dollar company and see how long you last."

"You're forty-two." Steve glanced up at him. "I looked you up on Wikipedia."

"I'm also vain. Don't know if I mentioned," Tony replied. "Look, here I am. You want to touch, you want to see if I'm real, go for it."

Steve turned, inhaling sharply, and Tony had a bare second to wonder if Captain America was about to punch him before Steve's hands came up to his face, holding him still. And then he kissed him. 

Not exactly what he'd been expecting.

"That's what I wanted to do," Steve said, holding him in place effortlessly, their foreheads pressed together. "That's why I wanted to know about the armor. I didn't know if I could and I still -- "

He jerked back, and Tony almost stumbled. 

"I'm sorry. I should go. You should get some more sleep." 

"Cap, wait -- " Tony caught at his arm as Steve turned away, fingers fumbling in his sleeve before he got a good grip. "Cap. Steve!" 

"In my day I could be arrested for what I just did," Steve said, tugging his arm away. "That's what I was willing to risk for you, and you didn't even tell me who you were."

"You think you're the only person with that problem?" Tony asked. "I kiss a man -- I kiss _anyone_ \-- and the world knows by morning. I get sick and the economy of the country shifts. I whisper a secret, and it doesn't stay secret. I've lived my entire life in front of cameras and that's a choice I make too, now. But when everyone wants a piece of me, I have to be more selfish than the average person. Otherwise I end up with nothing. For just a little while, for a fraction of a moment, I got to be the guy people liked. I got to be a hero without letting people down because I had a drink or slept with someone they thought I shouldn't. And if you don't get that, after today, you will. Because the first time you step out of line as Steve Rogers, the cameras will be there."

He let go of Steve's arm, but Steve stayed where he was.

"Don't know why I bother saying that. It's not like you've ever fucked up before. No reason to start now." 

"I've done things I regret," Steve replied. "Things that would have had consequences. In...in that situation."

"Well, hold onto your ass, because now they will." 

"How do you do it?"

"A cultivated lack of shame. A suit of armor, eventually. You had to have seen that I'm different in the suit."

"I noticed," Steve said. "Iron Man didn't skedaddle whenever I walked into a room." 

Tony stayed where he was, studying him for a minute, and then asked, "Do you want to see the suits?"

Steve looked up at him, a sudden movement of surprise; he had to know it was a peace offering, but there was something else in his eyes.

"Very much," he said, and then, "Suits?"

"Come on," Tony replied, starting for the stairwell to the workshop. Steve followed him, a strange repeat of two days ago, silent as Tony keyed in the code, as they walked down the stairs and Tony stood before the scanner. The door popped open, and Tony led him across the workshop, past the crates containing the damaged suit, to a second door. This one took a voiceprint password, and Tony gave it unhesitating. 

The door swung open, and Tony gestured for Steve to lead the way. 

Inside was a wide room full of the machines of his trade, workbenches and welding rigs and computers with which to program the suit, but Steve bypassed all of them. He went straight to the display cases built into the wall, where the old retired suits stood to attention behind glass.

He stopped at each of them, studying them carefully. The clunky Mk.1, retrieved and carefully rebuilt after being discarded in the desert, found by the Ten Rings, brought back to Malibu, and exploited by Obadiah. The Mk.2, in which Tony had taken his first controlled flight, and the Mk.3 -- still riddled with bullet scars -- in which he'd invaded Gulmira, in which he'd fought and killed Obadiah. The Mk.4 with the lightweight Mk.5 at its feet, folded up into a suitcase. The Mk.6, in which he'd fought Vanko -- and Loki and the Chitauri. 

The Mk.8 lay half-built on a table at the end. He had a good feeling about the Mk.8, truth be told, if he could work a few kinks out. 

"My pride and joy," he said, lingering in the doorway. Steve looked up from his contemplation of the Mk.8's unpainted faceplate. 

"Nothing without the man inside them," Steve answered. "Just toys someone built."

"Thank you," Tony answered, without a hint of sarcasm. 

"Why did you change the shape?" Steve asked, and Tony frowned. Steve went back to the Mk.6, pointing at the triangle set in the chest. "It's circular in the others. In this one and the one you wear now, it's a triangle."

"The reactor powers the suits," Tony said, tapping his chest. "The feed shape changed when I recalibrated it to take vibranium. Had to alter some designs."

"Vibranium, like in the shield."

"There's a chip of it in the core of the reactor. It's a superior power source." Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. 

"What happens if the power goes out?"

"It won't. The reactor is designed to produce a massive amount of energy. It's not a light bulb, it doesn't burn out."

"But if it were damaged?"

"Difficult to do. Two potential results." Tony rested a hip on the edge of the worktable. "If it were wired to produce a feedback loop, you'd get a blast about the size of a moderate atomic bomb without the radiation fallout. It takes a very specific skill set I've made sure isn't widely available. There's maybe three people who know that's even possible, aside from me."

"And they are?"

"Bruce, and Jane Foster. Eric Selvig might be able to work out how, but he wouldn't think of it. The other possibility," Tony continued, because Steve looked like he was about to start another argument, "is that it's damaged so badly it can't continue to generate power at all. Anything that could do that would kill me anyway. Extreme usage could do it, but with the vibranium core that's pretty difficult."

"What happens then?"

"I die," Tony said. "The shrapnel in my chest works its way forward and into my heart. At this point, it'd take maybe five minutes before I go into cardiac arrest." 

Steve looked back down at the faceplate. "I used to wonder, you know. What color your hair was."

"Brown, going grey," Tony said, and a wry smile crossed Steve's face. 

"I wondered what you looked like. If you had some other life. If you came home to someone at night."

Tony gestured at the armor. 

"I come home to the work," he said. 

"There's nobody?"

"There's nobody. Not in that way. There was -- Pepper, but that ended. It's the cost," Tony added. "I chose to pay it. I love this work. And if you're still angry, that's a cost I'll pay too, but I won't give it up." 

"No one's asking you to," Steve replied. 

"But you are still angry."

Steve nodded. He circled the table, caught Tony's face in his hands, and kissed him again.

"Okay, I know you're new to this century but we have this thing, mixed signals -- " Tony began, and Steve kissed his forehead, which shocked him into silence. 

"You have to have this conversation with the others," he said. "Take your time. Come find me when you're done."

Tony nodded, and Steve left, JARVIS opening the doors one by one, silently and tactfully. Tony hitched himself up on the worktable and sat, picking up one of the half-finished gauntlets for the Mk.8.

"JARVIS, is anyone else awake?" he asked, fitting his hand up into the gauntlet. 

"Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff are in the gymnasium," JARVIS said.

"Think they want company?"

"Has the word 'no' ever stopped you before, sir?"

"Point," Tony slid off the table and went to the door. "Lock it all down. If anyone kills me before I get back, you know what to do."

"Blow the suits and upload myself to Google's servers, sir."

"That's my boy."

***

When Tony reached the gym, Natasha and Clint looked for all the world like they were trying to kill each other.

Tony knew -- Iron Man had known -- that the two of them weren't terribly good at talking things out. They were compartmentalizers. Tony could appreciate that. This was the way they fought about things: at the moment, about the fact that Natasha had known and hadn't told. Frankly he hadn't expected that. Clearly neither had Clint. It was evident in the way they moved, in the viciousness of the fight. It had been classified information, yes, but some bonds went beyond the rules and regs of SHIELD, or at least, Tony knew, Clint had thought they did. They'd be okay, but they had to do this first. 

He knew they noticed him almost as soon as he arrived, so he just leaned in the doorway and watched. He'd been wary around Natasha, with good reason, but he'd come to like her, and he liked Clint enormously. Clint had taken Iron Man's side more often than not in any dispute, with SHIELD or Cap or the other Avengers. He had a wild streak in him that Iron Man appreciated. 

Eventually Clint got Natasha on the mat. Tony suspected she allowed it. The end of the argument: _Yes, it was wrong what I did. Yes, your anger is justified. But you don't own me, and I'm letting you have this._

Clint held her there for a few seconds, chest heaving, and then let her up. She flipped to her feet and stepped away.

Clint turned to Tony.

"Shirt," he said. Tony pulled his sweater and shirt off, dropping them to one side. He came forward, hands in his pockets, doing his best to be casual. Clint's eyes flicked down to the arc reactor and then back up. 

"Always thought you had to be a little guy," Clint said, stepping back, tacitly inviting him onto the mats. Tony stepped on. Natasha stood by, watching. "Thought you had to be like a jockey. Great big powerful racehorse, small man on top just barely keeping control. I liked that about you."

"The armor's an alloy. It doesn't have to be thick."

"Guess not. You got some muscle on you," Clint said, gesturing at Tony's body. It wasn't built like Clint, lean and wiry, or like Cap, broad but tapered. Still, the thickness to his chest and waist was muscle, and Tony was proud of that.

"I work out," he said evenly. Clint wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His upper lip was bleeding from the fight with Natasha.

"Rich boy," he said, and Tony rose up on the balls of his feet as they began to circle one another. "Why'd you bother?"

"Money can't buy revenge," Tony replied. "Makes it easier, though."

"I guess so." Clint pointed at him. "You're recovering from a concussion. No head shots."

"Thanks."

Clint's eyes dropped to the reactor. "Can I damage it?"

"No. Got some edges though, and it's hard, it'll hurt. Aim around it."

"I can work with that. Two out of three throws. You want me to spot you one?"

"Why the hell would I want that?"

Clint shrugged. "You got bounced around pretty bad. Wouldn't want you to say I cheated." 

"Don't fucking spot me, Barton."

"Your funeral," Clint said, and lunged. 

It didn't last long. Unlike Natasha, Tony didn't have to _let_ Clint kick his ass; Clint was ten years younger, and while he might not be fresh he was a lot less sore than Tony. Tony had some training, but he'd never had to fight like this to save his life the way Clint had, and they both knew it. Clint threw him once; he managed to get Clint on the mats once as well, but then Clint got him in a shoulder lock and took him down handily. Not even really a competition.

Tony lay on the mats and reflected that if he was going to have to let Thor do this, he was going to die. 

Clint offered him a hand up. "Not bad. I'll put you on the roster."

"Ow. What roster?"

Clint's grin was like a sunrise, fast and blinding. "Sparring. You need work outside the suit. Couple of months oughta do it."

Tony limped off the mats and sat down on a bench, groaning. "Kill me slowly, is that it?"

"Nah. I'd miss Iron Man," Clint replied, walking past him towards the showers. Natasha glanced at Tony, shrugged, and followed Clint. 

"You have to admit, our way is efficient," she said over her shoulder. 

"Good times, guys. Take it easy," Tony called, collapsing on the bench. He lay there for a while until he felt like he could move again. 

***

Thor actually turned out to be pretty cool about the whole thing.

When Tony emerged from the bedroom the next morning, walking stiffly and intent on coffee, he got about three steps into his private kitchen before he realized he wasn't alone. Thor was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. 

"Coffee first," he said without looking at Thor, holding up a hand to prevent him talking. "Coffee, then recriminations."

Thor waited, looking faintly amused, until Tony had settled in at the breakfast nook and downed half the cup. "You seem weary, Iron Man." 

"Yeah, well, Cap yelled at me and Clint kicked my ass around the gym last night," Tony said, around another sip of coffee. "So if you want to try your luck, can we wait until the bruises start healing?"

Thor smiled. "Hawkeye is young. Our Captain younger still. You and I are men of age, and we understand things they do not."

Tony blinked at him over the rim of the cup.

"When we came to know that you and Iron Man were one, I admit, I was unsettled," Thor said, leaning back. "I spoke to JARVIS and asked him if this was tradition on Midgard, or if this deception should be considered an insult to us, as our Captain took it. There are still so many things I don't know about Midgard," he said with a gusty sigh. 

Tony looked up at the nearest camera. "JARVIS, what did you tell Thor?"

"Nothing that would be any more detrimental to your reputation than you have already been, sir," JARVIS replied.

"He told me of your fondness for myths," Thor said. Tony frowned. "You have so many stories here on Midgard. You fashion yourself after the god Lancelot, is it not so?"

Tony let his head fall to the table. "JARVIS, you liar."

"A fondness for the Arthurian legend cycle can surely only be seen as a positive character trait," JARVIS said. Asshole.

"I have been studying the story of Lancelot," Thor continued, ignoring Tony's reaction. "In the age when all men fought as you do, in heavy armor, he was the greatest of the court warriors. And he was a great breaker of hearts, this Lancelot; women died of love for him. Jealousy of another, no matter how well-earned their lauds, can grow in even the proudest of hearts," Thor added thoughtfully. "Perhaps in those most easily," and Tony could tell he was thinking of his brother. "His men would no longer do trials of arms with him, or if they did their spirits were already broken. So he attended a trial in disguise, that he might fight fairly without his reputation coloring his matches. This is commendable."

Thor was silent for a while, and Tony eventually lifted his head, sitting up to finish off his coffee.

"It being your purpose, and your faith so noble, I do not see how I could accuse you of baseness," Thor said. "We have no enmity between us, Iron Man." 

"Tony's fine, you know," Tony said. "And, uh, thanks."

"So it is agreed?" Thor asked, rising and offering Tony his hand. Tony stood and took it. 

"Sure. No hard feelings," he said, relieved.

Which was when Thor said "Excellent!" and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, nearly dragging him off his feet as he pulled him through the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ, are you hauling me off to kill me? Was this a cruel ruse?" Tony asked, stumbling along behind him. "Easy on the threads, big guy!"

"You will dine with us as one of our band," Thor informed him, as the door to the common rooms opened. "When you are healed, we will hold a banquet. I have already arranged for a boar to be roasted, as well as ale and cider and sweetmeats and other things. In the meantime," he continued, still dragging Tony along, "you must break bread with us."

They arrived in the kitchen to find it already full: Steve and Natasha at the table, Clint at the stove making what looked like scrambled eggs, Bruce keeping an eye on the industrial toaster and its twelve slices of toast. The Avengers did not screw around when it came to toast. 

"I have brought Iron Man!" Thor said, beaming, and finally let go of Tony's shirt.

"Over strong objections," Tony added, and then looked up at the vague expression of hurt on everyone's faces. "Because of awkward. Not because I don't, you know, _like_ you guys, or breakfast. Because it's awkward, hi, here I am...yeah. So, I can go -- " Thor shoved him into a chair. " _Ow_."

"Stay," Natasha said. "You can have Thor's toast."

"A small price," Thor boomed. 

"No, have mine. I need to get to the lab," Bruce said, standing up. 

"But breakfast -- !" Thor began.

"Sorry, timed experiment," Bruce said. "Hey, Tony," he added, and all but ran from the room. Tony twisted to watch him go.

"Guess you haven't talked to him yet," Clint said.

"No, I was busy getting my ass kicked by you and Cap and then hauled around bodily by Thor," Tony replied. 

Steve, who had been silent until then, rose from the table and went to the toaster, loading up two plates with buttered toast before holding them out to Clint. Clint obediently flipped some eggs onto the plates, and Steve came back, stopping in front of Tony.

"Go talk to him," he said, holding the plates out. 

Tony opened his mouth to remark that he wasn't a waiter and Steve wasn't a therapist, but Steve's eyes narrowed. Tony took the plates and stood up. 

"Well, this was fun, let's do it again sometime," he said, and left. 

***

Tony had override codes for every door in the building, of course -- or rather, JARVIS did, and Tony could access them if needed -- but when he kicked gently at the door to Bruce's lab, Bruce glanced up, saw him through the glass, visibly slumped, and mouthed, _It's open._

Tony nudged the door open and elbowed his way in, setting the plates down cautiously. 

"So, this avoidance," he said, as Bruce tugged one of them closer. "Is it a might-rage-out thing, a punishing-me thing, or what? 'Cause if you're going to rage out, I have an airplane, we can do this somewhere...more rural."

"It's not a problem with the Other Guy," Bruce said, taking off his glasses. "Did you bring forks?"

"Cap sort of shoved me out the door with what I had," Tony replied. Bruce nodded and scooped some egg up onto his toast with his fingers before taking a bite. 

"Eat," he ordered, mouth full. Tony sat down, picking at the toast. "It's not a rage thing, and it's not a punishment thing."

"Well, that's good, because I'm not really big on punishment in general, and I had the _I'm not sorry_ talk with Steve already," Tony replied. "So what is it? We are scientists, we can dissect this."

"Can't quantify the human soul."

"Beg to differ. Beg very much to differ. Didn't that guy do experiments with scales under the beds of dying people?"

"You know that study was discredited," Bruce said, shaking his head. "No, it's just...I don't know what I think. And I have some concerns when I go into a situation blind like that. Last night was mostly about letting you and Steve slug it out, though. How'd it go?"

"You're misdirecting. I'm kind of proud of you for that," Tony replied.

Bruce sighed. "It's not the same for me as it is for them."

"How so?"

"They all found out Iron Man was Tony Stark." Bruce set his plate aside. "I found out Tony was Iron Man. I'm just trying to process through that."

Tony tilted his head.

"Look, the Other Guy likes Iron Man fine," Bruce began. 

"He knew, by the way."

Bruce frowned. "He knew?"

"Smelled me, I think. Carry on."

"He's the one who gets to know Iron Man. Not that I haven't spent time with you as Iron Man, but for me Iron Man's just a guy in a suit. Nobody else spends much time with you -- with Tony -- except me. And that's great, because I'm desensitized to you now -- "

"You wound me, Bruce, that hurts me deeply," Tony said, clutching his heart. Bruce smiled a little.

"Anyway, they have to get used to the idea that their friend is a famous, wealthy man not known for his overwhelming adherence to convention," Bruce said. "I have to get used to the idea that my friend is putting himself in danger and I can't do anything about it when the Other Guy is in charge."

"He looks after me."

"I'm sure he does, but I don't get to see that," Bruce said, a trifle bitterly. "See, it really isn't you, Tony, it's me." 

"So what do you need? How do I fix this?"

"Sometimes you are _such an engineer_ ," Bruce said. 

"If I can't fix it, fate clearly intended it to stay broke," Tony replied. "Bruce. Seriously. Fixing this. How?"

Bruce shrugged. "I ran because that's my instinct. Running is my default, even now. So there's nothing you can do. Here, now, we're fine, and that's good, that means I'm probably okay with you. But if I leave, I want your promise you won't follow me."

"Leave," Tony replied, heart dropping.

"Leave the room," Bruce clarified gently. "Not New York. You have very effectively anchored me here with this lab and...with everything. I'm grateful, so grateful. But I don't know how to react to this. I don't know how to behave or how I _will_ behave. So I might need to leave a room sometimes, and for everyone's sake, that means you can't follow. Which is not your strong suit," he added, smile widening a little. "The rest of the time, just act normal, Tony."

"Don't follow when you go," Tony said. "Gotcha, boss." He hesitated, uncharacteristic, and then asked, "Can I stay now?"

Bruce laughed -- he was rusty at laughing, but Tony recognized his low _hah_ as sincere. "Yes, you can stay now. You own the lab, you know."

"No, I own the building. The lab is yours," Tony answered.

"Well, in that case, step into my parlor. Actually I've been wanting to run some tests," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Muscle density, reaction time, neural mapping. On Iron Man. Never seemed like a good time to ask. Up for it?"

"You need the suit?"

"No, I can rig up some machinery here that can measure all that, though if you've got biometrics readings I'd love to see them."

Nobody truly understood Tony's nerd side like Bruce. 

***

When they came up for air a few hours later, Bruce had a week's worth of data to sift through and Tony was tired of thinking; the mental aspects of the testing had been draining, and while he felt okay physically he also still felt like he could happily spend the rest of the day sitting on a couch, quietly staring at a wall. Bruce told him to eat something, so Tony drifted out of the lab and up to the penthouse on autopilot. He was just trying to decide whether to hide out in his room when the elevator opened and Steve stepped out.

"JARVIS, you are a betrayer," Tony said. 

"I am only as moral as the man who programmed me," JARVIS replied. 

"Hey," Steve said, ignoring them both. "You and Bruce patch things up?"

"Yep, we're mostly good," Tony replied. He glanced at Steve. "Need something?"

"I thought -- " Steve began, but they were interrupted by a third person who seemingly appearing from nowhere. 

"Oh good, you're both here," she said brightly, walking into the conversation as if she owned it. Tony startled. "Well, we've had an exciting day or two, haven't we?"

Tony narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. "Brianna." 

"Good try," she said, grinning. "Captain Rogers, it's a pleasure. I'm Brenda -- "

"Brenda!" Tony said triumphantly.

" -- Cunningham, I'm a Stark Industries PR manager. I handle Avengers press. SHIELD was fucking it up," she added frankly.

"How come we haven't met before?" Steve asked, shaking her hand. 

"Well, I didn't know who you were, for a start, and SI has a policy of keeping the Avengers low profile. I've already been doing work for Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff, mainly saying no when talk shows call, but Ms. Potts warned me off Captain America and Iron Man. That's changed now. Please, sit down," she said, and Steve sat, looking a little bowled over. Tony pulled up a chair as well. This should be interesting. 

"The good news is that everyone wants both of you," she said. " _Early Edition, Good Morning America, Today Show, 60 Minutes, Late Night, The Late Show, The Late Late Show_. You," she said, turning to Steve, "are in hot demand in particular. Have you been watching _The Daily Show_? Or _The Colbert Report_?"

"I don't watch much television," Steve said. 

"Well, yesterday after your unmasking, Jon Stewart publicly invited you onto his show, and Stephen Colbert got very upset about it on his," she said. "They're arranging an event they're calling _Patriot Games_ to see who can get you on their show first. It's all good-natured, and I think we can have a lot of fun with it. They've already been in touch with me about how you want to play into it, if at all."

" _Daily Show_ ," Tony said. Steve glanced at him. "I'm not sure you're ready yet for the level of satire on _Colbert Report_." 

"Have you been on it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I've been on everything at some point," Tony replied. "But you don't have to go on anything if you don't want to. Nobody else does."

"It would make the Avengers look good though, wouldn't it?" Steve asked.

"We already look good."

"Building positive social capital can't hurt," Brenda said. "But I'm happy to say no for you. That's part of my job. And before you can go on any of them we're going to need to do a little background debrief. I'm familiar with Mr. Stark's history, but we don't want anyone digging up anything nasty on you and confronting you with it on national television."

"Doesn't exist," Tony said. "Believe me, I'd know by now. Are we thinking scattergun or exclusive?"

"Well, a wide-band would probably spread focus, but if we do an exclusive it'll get more attention. And be over faster," she said. 

"Less time to fuck up," Tony agreed. Steve was looking back and forth between them, a line forming between his eyebrows. "Let's go with that."

"Any preferences?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Steve said. 

"Don't do morning shows," Tony said. "I can't stand those chipper morons."

"This _Daily Show_...." Steve glanced at Brenda. "That's a good start, I guess."

"Okay!" she said, smiling. "Good meeting. Steve, I'll send you some episodes to watch. Tony, I'll be in touch." 

Tony saluted, and she gathered up her StarkPad, vanishing back to wherever she'd come from. Stark PR agents were particularly good at ambush, Tony reflected. 

"Well," Steve said finally. "That was...bewildering." He looked at Tony. "You should eat."

Tony tilted his head. "Non sequitur, but okay. That's why I came up."

"We have sandwich stuff."

"I'm sensing a conspiracy," Tony said. "If I refuse are you going to drag me around like Thor did?"

Steve looked sad. "No," he said. "Sorry, that wasn't an order. I mean -- "

"Christ, no, fine, lead the way," Tony interrupted, talking fast to try and erase the last few things he'd said. "So, welcome to fame, by the way. Have you been outside the tower since you gave the press conference?"

"No," Steve said, looking sheepish. "I don't...go out, much, I guess. I mean, everyone's here, and the gym and everything, and I used to go walking around New York but after a while...it's so different." 

"From?"

"From what it used to be," Steve replied, going to the fridge. "I keep getting lost. In the war I could navigate across Europe just by the stars. I was a pretty bright kid but the Serum made everything...crisper, sharper. I could memorize maps. Still can. But when I get out on the street it just...I get so turned around. Distracted by everything." He shook his head.

"Can't see very many stars from Manhattan," Tony pointed out.

"Even in the forties you couldn't. I never saw real stars until I went to war," Steve answered, as he began to load up his arms with food. "First time I looked up and saw a true night sky, horizon to horizon, I was standing in a field full of POWs, thirty miles from base camp, trying to figure out how I was gonna get them all home safe." He gave Tony an oddly triumphant look. "I ever tell you that?"

"I don't think so," Tony said. "But you know me, I only listen to about half of what you say."

"Guess if you think that's true _you_ don't even know you very well," Steve replied, and reached for a loaf of bread. 

They made sandwiches in one of the most awkward silences Tony could ever recall experiencing. He'd learned the art of small talk young, one of the best gifts his parents could have given him, but Steve was too familiar for Tony to try charm on, and not familiar enough for Tony to actually talk to.

He was rusty at real talk anyway. 

Finally, when Steve glanced at his plate and then dumped a banana on top of the roast beef sandwich and potato chips, Tony groaned.

"What is it with the entire team trying to feed me?" he asked. "Ever since the helmet came off everyone wants me to eat more."

"You've been to communal meals before. You never got to eat. It's a bonding experience," Steve said, carrying his own plate to the table. 

"I do eat."

"Doesn't seem like it to us," Steve said. He was silent for a moment as Tony sat down, then asked abruptly, "Does the suit really feed you?"

"IV nutrients if I need them. Faster and more efficient than food, actually."

"Not the same, though. Chemicals only take you so far."

"Took you far enough, Winghead," Tony said, before he thought about it. He froze, sandwich in one hand, appalled at his rudeness, but Steve just smiled down at his own plate.

"Now that was Iron Man," he murmured. 

Tony set his sandwich down. He could feel an adrenaline rush, like he often got in the suit, but harder and more dizzying than he'd felt in a long time. 

"This may have been a misstep," he said, sitting back, affecting calm. Panic was clawing at his guts. "The point of the Avengers, the point of Iron Man, was always to do more good than harm. We're fumbling -- we are," he said, when Steve looked up, opening his mouth to object. "This is awkward, and that's going to bleed through. It's an issue of trust, I understand that. Anyway, I had Iron Man, and I had Tony Stark, and that worked," he said, holding up his hands as if he could hold the two halves of himself in them. "It worked for you and me. Letting the barrier down is fucking us up. I don't want to disrupt the team."

"Are you asking to leave the Avengers?" Steve asked tightly.

"I'm saying it might be wiser if I did. Believe it or not, the billionaire industrialist pig is interested in the greater good."

"That's never been my opinion of you, even at the start."

"It's the entire world's opinion of me."

"Not now that they know. Iron Man is a decent, honorable man who cares for people. That means either Tony Stark is too, or he's a hell of a performer. I don't think it was an act."

"And now that _you_ know?" Tony asked. 

Steve eyed him as though he might bite if provoked. 

"I think you think it's easier to leave a team that likes and needs you than to push through a little awkwardness. But Iron Man's never been that much of a coward, so who am I to say?" he asked. His voice was gentler than Tony expected. 

Tony picked up his sandwich and took a defiant bite. Awkward silence it was, then.

Steve smiled a little, which only annoyed him further, but when he spoke it wasn't anything that Tony expected.

"I want to ask you to do something for me," he said. "Before you try to leave the team, before we make any decisions we can't back away from. But I don't think it will be pleasant for you, so this is a favor, not an order or a demand."

Tony gestured with his sandwich. "Fine. What?"

"I want to know what happened to you. I want to know how Iron Man came to be. What's in the file I was given isn't the public story, but it still clearly doesn't fall into line with what actually happened. I know that there are parts which aren't good memories for you..." Steve's eyes dropped to the faint glow of Tony's arc reactor. "I just want you to tell me what you can. If you can. I'd like to know."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend. You're..." Steve shrugged. "We -- have something. I think. Am I wrong?"

Tony shook his head. "No."

"And I'm missing a big chunk of your story."

Tony dusted off his fingers and stood up, walking into the kitchen. "Stay put, I'm coming back."

"What are you doing?" Steve called. Tony re-emerged with two tumblers and a bottle of the mid-range whiskey Clint preferred. 

"This is a story that requires a drink," he said, pouring out a measure of alcohol into one glass. "I know you prefer Natasha's sipping vodka, if you'd rather have that."

"This is fine," Steve said. "Tastes all right."

"Salut," Tony said, pouring a second glass and lifting his as he sat down again. "You tell me first what the file says."

"You were taken prisoner by a terrorist cell. Several months passed. Eventually military intelligence got a tip about your location. The official SHIELD file says that Iron Man had hacked the government's intelligence network and was listening passively for any mention of you, so when they found out where you were, he got there first, blew the camp, and flew you out. But the public assumption is that Iron Man tracked you down himself. That did seem more likely to me."

"He has a reputation," Tony murmured.

"Well-earned. Once he got you out, he went back, to a town called Gulmira which was being occupied by the remains of the terrorists, and beat them into the ground. I thought he had some deep loyalty to you. I thought perhaps he was...perhaps he was a soldier who'd been injured so badly he couldn't leave the suit, and he felt gratitude towards you for building it for him. He was so adamant that he wasn't a soldier -- I thought he must be angry with the military. Sometimes veterans get that way." Steve sipped his drink. "Sometimes I get that way, and I got out whole. Mostly." 

Tony took a swallow, felt the slight burn of it going down. 

"The cell is known as the Ten Rings," he said, setting his drink aside. "They're one of those groups that never entirely goes away, but I go after them when I hear about them. Doesn't usually make it into any official report. They were hired by my business partner to kill me while I was on a trip to Afghanistan to demo a weapon."

"Your business partner?" Steve asked. 

"Obadiah Stane."

"He tried to _kill_ you?" 

"Worse," Tony said with a grim smile. "He underpaid them to kill me. They decided if he wouldn't pay what it was worth to murder Tony Stark, they'd keep me around. They asked me to build them a Jericho missile. Ever seen a Jericho go off?"

Steve shook his head.

"That's because I scrapped them after I got home. Only one was ever used, and that was the demo. I said I wouldn't build them one; they were persuasive."

"Persuasive," Steve repeated. 

"Eventually I said I _would_ build it for them, but instead I built the Iron Man," Tony said, ignoring him. "I designed it to run on the arc reactor."

"The one in your chest."

"Pretty good for something I built in a cave, huh?" Tony said. "The idea was that I could blast -- "

He stopped, wondering if he could talk about Yinsen yet, but he felt the familiar tightness in his chest and knew it was a bad idea. He reached for his drink. 

"I thought I could blast my way out and then hit the air. Worked reasonably well. The explosion from the camp going up drew attention from the US military. They found me, took me back to a base, got me back to America."

"And you shut down your defense contracts."

"Obie sure didn't like that," Tony said, finishing off the glass and pouring another. "Tried to kill me. Well, steal my reactor -- he was more interested in getting that than in my death -- but the one causes the other, so."

"He tried to take your reactor out?"

"Oh, no, he succeeded." Tony said, and then fell silent. 

"What did you do?" Steve asked. 

"Killed him back," Tony replied. "And yeah, that part right there, I'm not talking about."

Steve nodded. 

"Anyway, the scope of what I could achieve as Iron Man became clear, particularly if he was unattached to the concept of Tony Stark in anything more than the abstract. SHIELD agreed. Then...it seemed like a natural act to preserve the status quo. The situation was working. You don't fuck with something like that if it works." He glanced at Steve. "Does that help?"

Steve nodded. "Yes. I think I understand now."

"Something you didn't before?"

"The armor was a way to be the man you were meant to be."

"I don't know that I'd go that far, this isn't fucking poetry," Tony replied.

"I would. I know how this works, Tony. How they turn men into stories," he added, when Tony gave him a curious look. "They did it to me in the forties. Suddenly your life isn't your life. It's a serial in a newspaper or a sound bite on the news. A comic book."

"They'll do it to both of us again, now that we're public," Tony replied. 

"Well, good thing it isn't our first time out of the gate then, isn't it?" Steve replied. "You wanted to be a hero, not because fame is fun but because you had a genuine urge to do good in the world. You couldn't, not if you were tied to your past. They'd have made you into a symbol, and not a nice one."

"The penitent playboy," Tony said. "Or the strutting egomaniac."

"I understand it," Steve answered. "I don't hate the secret, Tony; I just hate that we weren't told either." 

He stood up, bending over Tony. Tony lifted his face to keep an eye on him, but Steve caught the back of his head and kissed his forehead again. Then he lingered, bent over him, breath shifting his hair.

"Are we going to talk about what this means?" Tony asked, and Steve leaned back enough to meet his eyes. "This, the kissing thing."

"It means what you want it to mean," Steve said. "Anger doesn't negate affection. I spent a long time wrestling out the part of me that was taught what I feel is illegal with the part of me that knows it's true. I know what I'd like. What I don't know is how much of what I'd like I'm liable to get. That's up to you. You want me to stop, that's fine, I will. You don't, well, that's what we used to call courting." 

Tony let him walk away, not because he didn't have a smart response for that but because for once all his prepared, glib reactions sounded cruel even in his own head.


	3. Chapter 3

Brenda called that evening with the news that she could get Steve on the Daily Show as soon as he wanted. Steve seemed agreeable enough, if a little anxious, so Tony backed off and let Brenda handle it. 

Though he did call up the producers on the quiet and secure himself a VIP seat in the control booth to watch the taping. 

It was a pretty good show. Steve had been coached well and Stewart was softballing him anyway, up to the point where he asked, "So I have to know, what made you decide to choose us first?"

Steve gave him an uncertain look. "Mr. Stark -- Tony -- he said he thought I wasn't ready for the Colbert Report." 

"Not ready. Well, I'll take what I can get," Stewart said. "Can I ask you to do one thing for me before we cut to commercial?"

"Sure, I guess."

"I want you to turn to that camera -- right there -- and say, _Eat it, Colbert._ "

Steve was just beginning to turn when a voice rang out: "I wouldn't do that if I were you." 

They both looked to one side and Tony saw the cameras shift; Stephen Colbert was standing at the edge of the stage, in full Captain America regalia, holding a toy shield. He pulled the cowl off dramatically. 

"My name is Stephen Colbert, and I am the only Captain America," he proclaimed. 

Stewart gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"I have the shield," Colbert announced.

"That looks like plastic," Steve said.

"Are you wearing spandex?" Stewart asked. 

"Captain America doesn't bow to the frivolous constraints of fashion," Colbert declared.

Tony watched, gleefully, as Stewart got up and confronted him. He kept one eye on Steve, who was looking startled, but he knew him well enough to tell that this was scripted. Steve had done movies and a stage show, once; he wasn't a bad actor. 

The argument over whether Stephen Colbert was in fact Captain America grew more heated, until finally Colbert said he would defeat any challenger to prove his right to wear the uniform, and Stewart told him to bring it on, and suddenly the two of them were heading offstage to some presumed boxing ring in the back of the studio. 

When they were gone, the cameras focused in on Steve. 

He looked stunned for a minute, and then awkward; finally he stood up, glancing around stealthily, and crept over to settle into Stewart's chair. He spread his hands on the desk, proprietary, and smiled. The crowd applauded, and the show cut to commercial. 

***

When the rest of the show had played out, complete with Stewart nursing a fake-looking black eye, Tony caught up to Steve in the green room backstage.

"Tony!" Steve said, startled. 

"Nice show," Tony replied. 

"Did you watch?" Steve asked. 

"I was up in the booth. Just in case you needed Iron Man to help _host the show_."

Steve gave him a shy look. "That was pretty funny. Show business is okay sometimes."

"You want to get a bite? Past your bedtime, you know."

"Sure, I suppose. I'd like that."

"I know a place. Come on, let's blow this joint," Tony said, leading him down towards the stage door. They managed to get through the small crowd of people there with Tony's patented "never stop walking" autograph technique, and Happy eased them out of the alley and into New York traffic smoothly. 

They ended up at a little bistro down a quiet street, where they weren't likely to be recognized or, if they were, weren't likely to be bothered. Tony watched Steve enthusiastically dig into about twice the food a normal person would be able to eat, appetite apparently sharpened by his latest turn in the public eye. 

"Aren't you eating?" Steve asked, when he slowed down somewhere around his second sandwich.

"Sure," Tony said, gesturing to his half-empty plate. "I'm not the one who spent an hour on television tonight, that's all."

"Guess so." Steve set his food down, reaching for the beer he'd ordered. "So you thought it went okay?"

"You were great. Big presence. And pretty good comedic timing." 

"Mr. Stewart said that. About the timing," Steve said, with another shy look. "Guess you hang around smart-alecks long enough, it pays off."

"Hey!"

"It's my own fault, really, I have very poor taste in friends -- "

"Don't make me fight you," Tony said. 

Steve grinned at him. "Wouldn't dream of it, Shellhead."

Tony grinned back. "I'm nothing but good for you, Winghead."

Steve flushed and looked down, suddenly, and his grin turned small. Private. "That's nothing but the truth, I guess." He looked up. "Are we courting, then?"

"Courting." Tony rolled his eyes. "You and your out of date slang. This is dating, Steve. Daaaaating."

That earned him a quiet laugh. "Okay."

"Okay," Tony agreed.

"Courting," Steve said.

"Dating," Tony insisted. 

"Wooing," Steve tried. 

"Oh my god, _wooing_ ," Tony said, and cracked up, falling back in his chair. Steve was still blushing, but he looked pleased. 

"If I kissed you right now how long would it take to get to the front page?" he asked quietly. 

"Here?" Tony glanced around. Nobody was paying them the slightest attention. "You might get away with it."

"Hm." Steve picked at his sandwich. "What you said about...about people knowing. I keep thinking. Things like this, they're -- I mean, I don't have a lot of experience, but I know at the start things are fragile. You have to be careful, just to make them work. And I can't imagine trying to hold this gently when the world's just waiting to trample it. Pick it apart, and they'd call us names, because of who we are. But I don't want to hide anything either, I did enough of that..."

Tony tilted his head. "In the war?"

"I had -- there was someone I cared for, but I couldn't...I don't think he ever knew." 

Tony licked his lips thoughtfully, and Steve's eyes dropped to them, then skidded away. 

"You're thinking about coming out, aren't you?" Tony asked.

"Now that I'm already public? Yes. More than thinking. What do you think? You'd be a part of it. You'd have to be. At least peripherally. I know you like your privacy."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I do, but that ship more or less sailed. There's always been rumors." 

"I don't want it to be a chore, Tony." 

Tony leaned forward, reaching out an arm to catch Steve by the back of the head. He tugged him forward, kissed him lightly, and let him go.

"Worth it," he said with a grin.

"You done eating?" Steve asked hoarsely. 

"Yep."

"I'm ready to go home."

"Check's paid. Wanna make out in the car?"

"Tony!" Steve looked outraged as they stood up, pulling their coats on hastily. "Happy's in the front seat!"

"He's seen worse."

"Absolutely not, that's just awkward for everyone. You can wait until we get home."

"And then making out?"

"If you behave," Steve said, but he caught Tony's hand and laced their fingers together as they walked out. "Iron Man," he added, in a low voice. 

***

Steve, apparently determined to be a gentleman, walked Tony to the door of his suite in the penthouse, and seemed prepared to leave him there. It was sweet, Tony thought, grabbing him by the belt and pulling him into his room before he could try the 'chaste kiss goodnight' routine. Steve went, looking amused, and Tony tugged him close, angling his head up just slightly to kiss him. Steve's hands rested lightly on his hips, keeping their bodies flush. 

"This," he said against Tony's mouth, fingers flexing gently. "This is definitely what I wanted."

"Sometime I'll put on the armor just so you can take me out of it," Tony said, and light flared in Steve's eyes. "Ha! I knew it."

"Knew what?" Steve asked, kissing him again, and Tony's hands came up to disorder Steve's carefully-styled hair. 

"You're hot for the suit."

"Man inside it," Steve insisted, leaning forward, practically holding him up. "I've been falling for you for so long...didn't think I could feel that way about someone again, and then there you were."

"You still pissed at me?"

"Yep." Steve grabbed one of Tony's hands and kissed the palm. Tony tried to raise a skeptical eyebrow, but Steve's tongue pressed against the heel of his thumb and he sucked in a sharp breath instead. "You made me feel like a fool."

"Funny way of showing it," Tony said, hooking his thumb into Steve's mouth. Steve licked at it, mischief in his eyes, and then sucked gently. "Christ, you're going to kill me."

Steve pulled back, kissed his thumb, and grinned. "Well, I always did like the ones who could get one over on me."

"I think you should kn -- agh!" Tony yelped, as Steve tumbled them both onto the couch against the wall, pulling Tony's thighs around his hips. "You should know, that was insanely hot by the way, you should know that I definitely put out on the first date." 

"I wouldn't dream of assuming," Steve replied. "You wouldn't want me to think you were easy, would you?"

"I wouldn't?" Tony asked, leaning back. "Can I blow you?"

"Bl -- oh," Steve blinked at him, but one arm pinned him in place before he could move. "Ah, oh. Tony."

"Satisfaction guaranteed," Tony said.

"No, that sounds fine, but -- that's not what I'm after," Steve said. His other hand lifted to sweep through Tony's hair, and his smile was fond. "I want to do this right. There's more to romance than sex, you know."

"I am how many years older than you?"

"Technically, you're about fifty years younger."

"You don't need to teach me about this stuff."

Steve didn't budge when Tony tried to move again. His fingers tightened in his hair, fractionally. 

"I don't know," he said, his expression turning serious. "How many people went to bed with you because you were a good man?"

"What?" Tony asked.

"How many people went to bed with you because you were rich or famous or charming? Because I'm not after him. I'm after Iron Man. I," Steve said, leaning forward, tipping his chin up so that their faces nearly touched, "am falling for the kind, honest, bullheaded man in the suit, not the quippy billionaire. You don't have to impress me. Your worth isn't in your pocketbook. Or your mouth."

Tony stared at him, uncertain whether to be angry or offended, but instead of either he leaned forward, curling his body to press his face against Steve's neck, the curve where it met his broad shoulder.

"It's terribly hard to be wanted for that," Steve said softly, nosing at his ear. "To be one thing and be seen as another -- thinking someone might want the scrappy little guy instead of Captain America. Being torn about who you are and why someone should love you. I think I know that even better than you do," he murmured, and then added, "I think maybe we both could use some sleep."

Tony nodded against his neck, pulling back, and this time Steve let him go. He stood, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his wrist, and Steve pushed up off the couch to kiss him. 

"Goodnight," Steve said with a smile. "Come to breakfast tomorrow. You don't want to miss Hawkeye making fun of me on the talk show." 

"Make extra coffee. Lots of coffee." 

"Lots of coffee, I promise." Steve tipped his chin up with his knuckles. "See you in the morning."

He left Tony standing there in the dark, vaguely aroused and more than a little confused.

***

"All I'm saying is that she's a fox, and if I had the chance I would hit it like Thor's hammer," were the first words Tony heard when he arrived in the kitchen the next morning. Clint apparently had a crush.

"I don't like that kind of talk," he heard Steve say. 

"I'm not going to _actually hit_ \-- "

"I know that, I'm only saying, it's not respectful."

"I could respect the hell out of her," Clint said. 

"Who are we respecting?" Tony asked, beelining for the coffee. Bruce got in his way and handed him a cup. "You are my favorite," he added.

"That's not what I hear," Bruce said with a grin.

"Clint, what is your issue this morning?" Tony demanded. 

"Brenda," Clint said with relish. 

"Let me get this down and I'll laugh at you," Tony replied, sipping his coffee. "She doesn't sleep with the talent."

"I'm very persuasive."

"Mmhm. Morning," Tony added in the general direction of the stove, where Steve was making the world's biggest omelet. 

"Ms. Cunningham was here earlier," Steve said. "Apparently the talk show went well."

"Steve is America's darling," Natasha added with a grin.

"I was trending on Twitter," Steve said proudly. "I don't know what that means but she sounded very happy about it." 

"I know it," Thor rumbled. He looked like he was about as much of a morning person as Tony was. "Darcy uses it to share portraits of me with the world." 

"Well, I hope I'm smiling in mine," Steve said.

Tony exchanged a look with Bruce, who mouthed _let it go_. He was about to do the exact opposite when his phone buzzed with Pepper's ringtone ( _She's got a dime all of the time, stays out at night movin' through time_ ) and he popped it out of his pocket. "Pepper. Save me."

"Tony?" she asked, and there was a certain tone to her voice that Tony recognized as bad news.

"Yeah, it's me, what happened?" he asked. "Aren't you in Malibu? Isn't it like...four in the morning there?"

"Okay, before you do anything, I'm fine," she said.

"Why wouldn't you be fine?"

"The house in Malibu was attacked about half an hour ago."

Tony could feel the blood drain from his face; from the way everyone was looking at him, obviously they could tell something was wrong. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine. The mansion's security systems kicked in, I got to the safe room, nobody was badly hurt."

"Fine is not the same as not badly hurt, Pep -- "

"I'm not hurt," she said. "Just a little shaken."

"Who was it? Do they know?"

"The police are here, they have a few men in custody. It's Advanced Idea Mechanics."

"Fuck. I'll be there in two hours."

"Tony -- "

"If anything happens, if someone breathes on you wrong, go back to the safe room. I'm getting the armor now."

"Tony, you don't have to -- "

"Why didn't JARVIS tell me?" Tony asked, then leaned the phone away from his ear. "JARVIS?"

"Processing," JARVIS said, and then replied, apologetically, "It appears communication between J-MALIBU and J-NYC is down. My morning diagnostic is not scheduled until 8:30am local time. I was unaware of the disconnect."

"What's going on?" Clint asked. Steve was watching Tony carefully.

"AIM went after Pepper," Tony said. "Pep. I'm hanging up now. Get somewhere safe and stay there. I'll come find you."

"Tony, don't do anything stupid."

"None of this plan is stupid. Stay safe. I'll call you from the air," Tony said, and hung up. "Well, I have to go kill everyone who came within shouting distance of Pepper this morning, excuse me." 

"Stark, wait," Clint said, catching his wrist as he stood. "AIM? Do you need us?"

"I just need to make sure she's okay, check out the systems," Tony said. "Then killing, as mentioned."

"They attacked Pepper?" Steve asked.

"Is everyone here deaf? I have to get to my suit -- "

"No, stop," Steve said, physically blocking him. Natasha went tense. 

"You really do not want to be between me and my suit right now," Tony said. 

"You can't go to California," Steve said. 

"Excuse me?"

"Listen, just -- Tony, listen!" Steve said, as Tony tried to dart around him. "They attacked her? Not the Stark plant out there?"

" _Yes_ , which is why I have to -- "

"Hear me out, strategy is what I do," Steve said, and the half-desperate tone in his voice made Tony pause. "If someone wanted to draw Iron Man out, who would they go after? You? Not now that they know you're Iron Man. She's across the country. If they wanted you out of the tower and unable to get back quickly, this is what they'd do."

"It's Pepper," Tony said. "I can't just leave her out there. Especially with JARVIS blind."

"I'm not saying you should," Steve said. "I'll go."

" _What?_ "

"I'll go see Pepper. Put me in a car, put me on a plane under your name, nobody will know. AIM is planning something. They want you gone. You have to stay here, Tony."

"And if it's a trap for me out there?" Tony asked. 

"Then they're not going to be expecting me," Steve said, showing his teeth. 

Tony narrowed his eyes, but he lifted his phone to his ear.

"Happy, it's Tony. Have them get the jet ready. Pick Steve up in the private garage. He's going to California under my name," he said, and hung up again. "Go. Explain things to Happy. If they hurt Pepper, destroy them."

"You're all on alert until I come back," Steve said. "Someone get on the horn with SHIELD and see if they've picked up any chatter." 

"I'll call," Natasha volunteered. "I know what to ask for." 

"Defend the tower," Steve said, turning back to Tony, and then without a second's hesitation leaned in and kissed him. "I'll call when we touch down." 

Steve looked up at everyone in the kitchen. Except for Bruce, they were staring at him in shock. "What, none of you ever saw people kissin' before?"

***

Anyone who didn't know the Avengers would have thought that Stark Tower, anticipating an attack, would be filled with tension. Tony might have expected it, back when the team was new. 

Now, however...well, Thor was always spoiling for a fight, and Bruce seemed to enjoy running around locking down his experiments. Clint was in uniform with his quiver on his back, doing pull-ups to keep his arm limber, and Natasha was calmly sorting her knives. Tony didn't know anyone who had as many knives as Natasha. 

Tony, because what was the point of being at the tower if he wasn't Iron Man, had suited up and was browsing news blogs on his HUD, watching Malibu as best he could. 

"So what do you think?" Clint asked, between pull-ups. "Missiles? Mind-control rays?"

"Gas," Natasha said.

"Five bucks says it's missiles."

"Must you?" Tony asked, flicking the news off his screen with a blink.

"Well, we can either talk about how AIM wants to attack the tower in a way that would require your absence -- " Natasha began.

" -- or we can talk about you and Steve making time," Clint finished. 

"Fifty bucks on mind-control," Tony said. 

"Hey, I got no dog in the fight," Clint replied. "You want to despoil the national icon, it's your funeral."

"Oh, good, is this where we talk about how you'll hurt me if I break his heart?"

"Steve's a big boy," Natasha said. "He can look after himself. But the public fallout will be..."

"Spectacular," Clint suggested.

"Will you two please stop doing that?"

"Face it," Clint said, dropping to the floor and stretching. "You took a hit when the bomb outed you. We all get it, but you're not the Golden Avenger now that the world knows you're the Artist Formerly Known As The Merchant Of Death. You and him go public, that's what the haters are going to say. You corrupted him." 

"You think I'm not aware of that?" Tony asked. "It's not like Captain Good Example is going to stay in the closet for long." 

"You never know," Natasha said. "He must have spent a good long while there back in the day."

"World's different now. He gets that," Tony said. 

"And you?"

"Fuck, people have always talked about me. I don't care. Maybe when I was some fetal nineteen-year-old who still needed public approval, but what are they going to do, call me names? Like that's new."

"But you still never said anything publicly," Clint pointed out.

"Because my sexuality is not something I felt the need to give a press conference about. Steve wants to, I'll have his back, end of story." 

"It'll get nasty," Natasha warned. 

"I do not understand this," Thor complained, startling them all with a thump of his fist on the table. Natasha's knives rattled. "On Asgard, the union of two warriors would be cause for celebration. True, it is unfortunate that you would not produce children, but that's a small consequence. Midgardians have a multitude of pointless rules concerning these things. It baffles me."

"We've had _a_ date, let's not get carried away with unions and children and things," Tony said. 

"Yeah, but it's not like you just met," Clint said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"For a genius, you are a blind little man," Natasha put in. 

"None of us are exactly surprised Steve's gay for you, is what we're saying," Clint added. "We -- "

He paused, a look of confusion creasing his face. Tony barely had time to register it before Natasha dropped a knife and clapped both hands to her head, grimacing.

"What is -- " Thor asked, and then he let out a yelp and curled into a ball, falling off his chair. Clint was clutching the table's edge, pale and breathing fast. 

Tony frowned. "JARVIS -- "

"I am picking up a peculiar subsonic transmission," JARVIS said. "Your armor is shielding against all unauthorized transmissions satisfactorily." There was a crash from somewhere below Tony's feet. "I do not believe Dr. Banner is enjoying the experience."

"Can you block it out to the tower?"

"Working," JARVIS said. 

"Clint?" Tony asked. Natasha was making soft, shrill yelps of pain at regular intervals. Clint didn't respond. "JARVIS, come on, they're going to start bleeding from their ears in a minute."

"Aircraft incoming, north-northwest," was JARVIS's only reply, and Tony's head whipped around in time to see a giant face with teeny tiny arms appear outside his living room window. 

_I AM M.O.D.O.K.,_ it screamed. _AVENGERS SHALL SUBMIT!_

"Oh, _hell_ no," Tony replied. 

***

California was pretty nice, Steve thought. Someday he'd have to tour it when the entire population wasn't living in terror of bombing raids, and when nobody was taking shots at Pepper Potts. 

The Malibu version of JARVIS was clearly anxious that he couldn't talk to his counterpart in New York, but Steve couldn't do much about that. Tony could have, but there was an obvious reason Tony wasn't here. 

JARVIS didn't like the presence of half the Malibu police force in the mostly-destroyed living room, either. Steve wasn't really happy about that himself, but he'd rather have a bunch of police standing around drinking coffee than not have sufficient reinforcements on hand, should anyone make a second try. 

"I have to ask," Pepper said, as she and Steve ate breakfast in the mostly-undamaged kitchen. She gestured at his uniform. "Don't you get hot under all that?"

"Not especially," Steve said. The police respected the uniform; besides, he liked the authority it tended to give him. "It's what they call breathable. The helmet gets a little itchy, but I'm usually not wearing it for more'n a few hours." 

"Oh," she said, and they lapsed into silence until Steve cleared his throat.

"Sorry Tony couldn't come," he said. "Guess you might rather have him here."

"Honestly?" Pepper gave him a little smile. "Tony can get kind of..."

"Intense?"

"I was going to say smothery, but intense works. I mean, there wasn't really any need for anyone to come out. The house security systems did exactly what they were supposed to do, and there's a million cops out there."

"We wouldn't leave you here without one of us around, though. AIM's nothing to sneeze at."

"I'm surprised you managed to grab him before he was in the suit and halfway here."

"It wasn't easy." 

"How'd you talk him into staying behind?"

Steve shrugged. "He's not unreasonable. And he...listens to me, I guess."

"You're one of the few, then."

"Well, me and him," Steve cleared his throat again, "we're sort of stepping out, I guess you could say."

Pepper choked on a bite of apple danish, coughing and reaching for her coffee. "You and Tony?" she managed. "Does stepping out mean what I think it means?"

"He doesn't like it when I say courting," Steve offered.

"Well, um, I'm very happy for you. Him. I'm happy for him. You, I'm kind of worried about," Pepper said. 

"Should I not have said anything? I wouldn't have, but you're his friend..."

"No, it's fine. I just meant that Tony doesn't have the best track record." 

Steve was about to reply, but his jacket buzzed; he reached into the inner pocket and took his phone out, frowning at it. 

"He sent me a picture," he said.

"If it's of him naked, don't share, been there," Pepper replied.

"Naked? Do people _do_ that?" Steve asked, appalled. "No, it's...there's a...face..."

Pepper turned the phone so that she could see it. "What is that?"

The photo was clearly a self-portrait; Tony was standing in the foreground, holding up the camera, and in the background there was a giant head. It had tiny little arms and legs, and two black eyes in its enormous face. It was lying on its side. 

The phone rang.

"Tony, what did you do?" Steve answered.

"Wow, you have clearly been spending time with Pepper," Tony replied. "I suspect we have met the enemy, and they are hilarious. Seriously, it's a giant flying head."

"You think that's what all this was about?" Steve asked. 

"From the way it used a mind-control ray to take down every Avenger but me, yeah, pretty sure," Tony said. "He was visibly not expecting me to punch him in his oversized face."

"Is anyone hurt?"

"Clint's still puking. Natasha and Thor are okay, but we're trying to figure out where Hulk went. He did not enjoy the mind-control ray even a little. Some property damage, no lives lost as far as I know. Put Pepper on?"

Steve handed the phone to Pepper. 

"Is that a giant head with tiny legs?" she asked. "Uh huh. Okay. Yep. Well, do you think there's a...a backup face? I agree. Tony, I can't run a plant inspection from across the country. Look, these guys already failed once and -- yes, but I'm more evil. Prove it? How about how in less than two hours I found out you're dating Captain America?" 

Steve made a chopping gesture across his neck with his hand, much too late. 

"He wants to talk to you again," Pepper said, holding out the phone. Steve sighed and took it.

"Don't blame yourself," Tony said. "She has ways. Are you bragging on me?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"You absolutely should be," Tony said. "You will never have a better bragging opportunity. Now, here's my secret plan. As soon as you hang up, grab Pepper, throw her over your shoulder, and bring her back to New York with you."

"I'm not doing that."

"Why not?"

"Because where I'm from that gets you arrested for kidnapping."

Pepper grinned at him.

"Ugh, this rebellious phase of yours," Tony said. "I killed the giant head, what more do you want from me?"

"I'll stay here overnight to make sure everything's secure. Pepper seems confident in your house's defensive capabilities, and given your history I don't doubt she's correct." Steve stepped away, towards the window, looking out at the Pacific ocean crashing below. "This timing, Tony -- "

"It sucks, I know," Tony said. "But I don't think AIM is cockblocking me on purpose."

"Do I want to know what that word means?"

"Sound it out, you'll get the idea." 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll be back tomorrow evening."

"Great. I'll start assembling a plan with SHIELD for hunting these asshats down," Tony replied. "Have fun squiring Pep around."

"Bye, Tony," Steve said, but Tony might already have hung up, he couldn't tell. He missed the click of the receiver hitting the hook. 

***

Though he hated to admit it, Steve could see why Tony preferred to leave the running of Stark Industries to Pepper Potts. Not only was it incredibly boring, but it required the kind of focus that Pepper could provide and Tony must have needed heavy medication to endure. For the better part of two days, Steve followed Pepper around, stood guard at the door during conferences, and waited in the office lobby during meetings; he hadn't been this bored since guardhouse duty during Basic. It was frankly a relief to say goodbye the following afternoon and get on a jet back to New York. 

His phone rang as soon as he turned it on after landing, which was suspicious; timing that good when it came to technology was generally an indicator that Tony was involving himself. 

"Hello, Tony," he said, as he descended the stairs wheeled out for the jet. "I feel like a picture star in this thing, I hope you realize that."

"You look like one too," Tony replied. Steve glanced around and saw Tony, arms crossed and sunglasses on, leaning against the wall of the hangar. 

"Do you complicate your life just for the hell of it?" Steve asked with a grin, stopping on the tarmac. 

"I bore easy," Tony said, pushing off from the wall with his shoulders. "Come over here." 

"You come here," Steve replied.

"I'm not the one who ran off to LA."

"To look after your boss, so that you wouldn't have to," Steve reminded him, resting his free hand on his hip.

"I defeated a giant head!"

"Well, I guess I gotta give you that," Steve agreed, strolling casually towards Tony. He hung up the phone and tucked it in his pocket, then caught Tony's outstretched arms and placed them over his own shoulders, reeling him in. 

"Hey," Tony said, when they were chest to chest.

"Hello," Steve replied, pushing Tony's sunglasses up into his hair. "So how was your first outing as Tony-Stark-As-Iron-Man?"

"Not too bad. I had a very public solo triumph saving the other Avengers. And SHIELD used the giant head to track Advanced Idea Mechanics back to their base, so they should be sacking the scientists right about now." 

"We ought to be there, don't you think?" Steve asked, pulling back a little.

"Fury benched me, and I don't want to fuck up my frankly brilliant plan by showing up unannounced."

"Unusually sensible of you," Steve said. "I'd feel better if I was knocking a few heads together, to be perfectly honest."

Tony snorted in a way that told Steve he'd missed out on a funny, and probably very dirty, joke at his own expense. "I would too, I guess, but I got to shoot a flying giant head out of the sky, so I've had my moment." 

"You sure SHIELD can handle them?"

"If they can't, I get to hold it over them forever. Come home," Tony said. "I can think of a few ways to keep busy until we hear how it went."

***

"Where is everyone?" Steve asked, when they arrived at the Avengers' common floor, which was silent and dark. 

"Thor's off with Jane," Tony said. "Bruce is in Maine."

"Maine!"

"It's where he ended up when Hulk went a little crazy after the head showed up," Tony said with a shrug. "He said he was going to get a room and sleep it off, maybe take in some sights. Natasha flew out to keep an eye on him." 

"And Clint?"

"Operations room, watching the grunts take out AIM."

Steve glanced at Tony. "He didn't go out alone with the SHIELD team, did he?"

"Nope. He's probably eating popcorn and making fun."

"Tony," Steve said, turning to him. "Did you clear out the tower?"

"Happy coincidence?" Tony tried. "Honestly, all I had to do was nudge Thor, everyone else made their own excuses." 

"What did you say to them?" Steve asked curiously. "About us?"

"Nothing. Well, not much," Tony replied. "They think it's all going to end in disaster, but it's not like I'm not prepared for that, my life is a series of disasters interrupted by nice dinners." 

"You think we'll be a disaster?"

"I think there's reasonable odds," Tony said. "Us...being who we are. Don't tell me you're over the lie just like that." He snapped his fingers, and Steve took his wrist, careful to be gentle. 

"Then why all this?" he asked, gesturing with his other hand. "Sending them away -- you don't need to seduce me, Tony. No -- " he said, when Tony opened his mouth. "I'm still unsettled about the lie, but I understand it now. And it'll fade in time. So if you think this will end in tears, why...?"

Tony shrugged. "Sometimes my luck turns. Disaster gave me Iron Man. And the Avengers. The chance of impending doom is generally not enough to scare me off." 

Steve smiled and pulled him forward a little, tipping his chin up with his free hand. "Good," he said, and kissed him. Tony pushed into the kiss, swaying forward, and Steve found his mouth opening, hand dropping Tony's wrist to cup him under the chin. He'd had a few kisses -- not as many as he'd have liked, truth be told -- but this was undoubtedly the best. 

"Iron Man," he murmured, when Tony broke the kiss. He felt Tony's hands twining in his shirt, tugging it out of its neat tucks before sliding up under Steve's shirt, spreading over his hips. Tony's mouth latched onto the edge of his jaw, teeth nipping there lightly. 

"You said you were falling for me forever," Tony answered, nosing down his throat. "You had no idea how much I wanted you. You were the last person I would have told, to keep you safe -- "

"I can protect myself," Steve answered, holding Tony's head against his throat, not wanting him to mistake a scolding for a rejection. 

"Sometimes I get stupid about the people I care about," Tony answered. "Can we save this talk for some other time?"

His hands slid around Steve's waist to the small of his back, fingers tucking under the waistband of his trousers. Steve's hips hitched forward and he tensed, uncertain if this was -- allowed, appropriate, if he was supposed to be this hard from a kiss and if Tony was supposed to know it. Tony made a delighted noise, though, and pinned him there, biting his collarbone. 

"Tony, is this..." he started, and Tony leaned back, a question on his face. "Is it too fast?"

Tony tilted his head. "Is it?"

"Yes, that's what I want to know."

"Me too," Tony said, letting him go. "We can -- look, I get it, old-fashioned, but Steve, if you want to wait for your wedding night I might break something -- "

"No!" Steve said, and then swallowed. "No, I just -- I don't know how these things _work_ , I don't know the rules." 

"Well. We're both Avengers and I'm a billionaire, I think we make our own rules," Tony answered. "I am seriously dying to get you naked, here, but -- and I think you should understand just how much this means, I know you don't know a lot about Tony Stark versus Iron Man -- "

"I've read a few magazines."

"Then you will know that I like sex and I don't like to wait for anything and while I will, I swear I will, I really want you in bed. Yesterday," Tony added.

Steve exhaled. "Oh, thank God." 

"Come on," Tony said, eyes lighting up. 

Very few people could drag Steve anywhere. He was stronger than just about everyone he knew except maybe Thor. But all Tony had to do was grab his arm and tug and Steve would have followed Tony, followed Iron Man, wherever he went. 

Outside Steve's room, Tony pushed him against the wall and kissed him again, halfway to climbing up him like some kind of deranged monkey, and Steve laughed and fumbled behind himself for the doorknob, tumbling them both inside when the door opened silently. Tony tripped trying to get his shoes off and fell into Steve, and Steve caught him with his belt still in one hand. Then they were on the bed, Steve's trousers still on and Tony's shirt still on and the blue glow of the reactor shone faintly through it, a bright rim of light on the edge of Steve's vision. 

Tony leaned over him, tucked between Steve's thighs like they were made to fit together, the first three buttons of his shirt open and his bare legs warm between Steve's. 

"You're sure about this," he said. Steve, feeling bold, rested a hand on the swell of his ass and pulled their hips together. Tony's head dropped with a groan.

"I'm sure," Steve said evenly, trying to wriggle out of his trousers. It felt good enough, rubbing up into Tony, who was squirming back against him, that he forgot about getting his pants off and just kept doing it, breath coming short, eyes sliding closed. 

"Whoa, cowboy," Tony said, and Steve opened his eyes as the decidedly pleasant pressure eased off. Tony was sitting back, pulling his shirt over his head, reaching for Steve's trousers. "Not that I'm not flattered but coming in your pants is messy and unnecessary."

Steve flushed, pushing himself up. "Here, I can -- "

Tony batted his hands away and tugged on his pants, pulling them off. "Oh, please. This is better than Christmas."

Steve had been in the Army. He'd been through recruiting five times before it took -- he'd sat in his shorts on cold benches with thirty other men, calmly reading the paper. In Basic, he'd showered in a big freezing room with no stalls, and in combat the Commandos thought skinny-dipping to get clean after a battle was not only efficient but fun. In his time, most of his friends and acquaintances -- the male ones, at least, and some of the girls in the Star Spangled Show who hadn't learned how to knock -- had seen him bare-butt naked at one time or another. 

But not like this. He could feel his blush creeping down his chest, cheeks hot, and when Tony looked up he glanced away. 

He saw Tony move out of the corner of his eye, and then the damn fool _pinched his nipple._

"Hey!" he yelled, grabbing Tony's shoulders and wrestling him down, Tony laughing as his back hit the bed. "What'd you do that for?"

"Taking you out of yourself," Tony said, pulling him down for a kiss. "You've never done this before, have you?"

Steve shook his head. 

"C'mon, this is fine. Here," Tony murmured, and lifted one of Steve's hands, guiding it down to the waistband of the briefs he was still wearing. Steve ducked his head to watch, fascinated, as their hands stripped Tony bare together. Tony guided his fingers around his dick, thick and warm and solid, curving up against his belly. 

"Yeah, like that," Tony said, letting go of his hand, arching his back. He was completely unashamed, and when Steve slid his thumb up he made a little _ah!_ noise in the back of his throat. 

Steve had tried to reconcile the differences between Iron Man and Tony Stark before, and he'd mostly succeeded; this was the man in the armor, he knew and understood that, and the glowing light in Tony's chest made it hard to forget -- but this was the first time it felt so wholly real. This was the body that moved the armor, the body that took Iron Man's beatings, the mind under the mask. 

Steve lowered himself down, bringing them together, and the first touch was electric, skin on skin. He groaned into Tony's neck, felt Tony's arms wrap around his shoulders. 

"I'll show you everything, I promise," Tony said in his ear. "This is fine for now. Ah -- yeah, this is good," he added, when Steve's hips began to move. His body clearly knew what it wanted, so Steve tried not to think, just breathed heavily into Tony's skin and kept moving. Tony was talking, Tony was _always_ talking, but Steve only caught words here and there until Tony stiffened underneath him with a yell, and wet warmth smeared up against Steve's abdomen.

He stopped moving, startled, and pushed himself up on one elbow. Tony was smiling, blissed-out, mouth slightly open. When he saw Steve looking, his smile widened. 

"You're a natural," he said, and Steve, painfully hard and half-embarrassed, dropped his head and laughed. "I mean it. You could sell videos, you'd make a fortune. Here," he added, shoving Steve's shoulder. "Roll over, beautiful, lie back."

"Oh, I can -- " Steve said, uncertainly, but Tony punched him in the shoulder until he moved, then grabbed his hands and held them down, crawling down his body. Steve pushed himself up and watched as Tony mouthed along his stomach, licking at traces of what he'd left there. "What are you d -- "

He broke off, inhaling sharply, as Tony licked him, licked him _there_ , and he'd heard about this -- of course he had -- but his hazy imaginings hadn't included the soft slickness of Tony's tongue on the head of his dick, or the sharp jolt of pleasure when Tony opened his mouth and practically swallowed him whole. 

"Oh," he managed, falling back. "Oh -- oh, Tony -- "

He pressed his hands to his face, trying to keep his wits together, and then realized he could touch Tony's face and that would be even better. He could feel Tony's head move, the tic in his jaw as he swallowed and Steve saw stars. He could feel his body tensing as he tried not to push up into the wonderful heat of Tony's mouth. He managed a choked-off warning, because it didn't seem polite to do _that_ , but Tony swallowed again and Steve gasped and came, one hand tightening in Tony's hair. 

He was aware, vaguely, of cool air on damp skin and movement, and then Tony's head hit the pillow next to him, lips red and stretched in a huge grin. Steve couldn't help himself; he mirrored it, and then Tony was laughing, rolling onto his back and howling with glee, arms thrown over his head. Steve laughed too; he wasn't even sure why, it was just so infectious. 

"You look like I sucked your brains out through your cock," Tony said, and Steve laughed harder. "Man, it's like someone hit you between the eyes with a sex bomb. I can't wait to try everything with you," he added, rolling back and resting a hand on Steve's chest. "If we are going to be a disaster, we're going to be the _best disaster ever_." 

Steve flailed a little, pulling Tony closer, heedless off the mess they both were. When they kissed, he could taste himself in Tony's mouth. 

"We won't be a disaster," he said, nuzzling the crown of his head, dropping an apologetic kiss where he'd pulled his hair. "I'm Captain America, I only make good decisions."

Tony snorted, patting his chest clumsily. "You keep believing that. Am I prodding you?" he asked, adjusting his body, and Steve realized he was asking about the reactor.

"No, you're fine," he said, just as Tony's movement made the edge of it dig into a rib. "Hey! Stop squirming, and if you pinch me again I'll dump you off the bed."

Tony settled down, and the pressure eased on his rib. 

"Better, thank you," Steve said. "At some point we're going to discuss your idea of taking me out of myself, by the way."

"Well, it worked," Tony replied. 

"Mmhm." Steve ruffled his hair against the grain. Something beeped, and -- as usual -- it was like Tony had some kind of built-in response. He rolled out of bed, ran to his trousers, and rummaged in them; when he came up with his Starkphone, Steve groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"It's from Clint," Tony said. "SHIELD just got done handing AIM's shiny yellow ass to them. Excellent."

He bounced back onto the bed, phone lifted so that he could work on it while lying on his back. Steve, resigned to Tony's eternal love affair with technology, rolled over, nosed into Tony's shoulder, and fell asleep while Tony was still tapping out a reply. 

***

It was early evening when Steve fell asleep, and by the time he woke the last of the light through the tall windows in his room had faded. At first he wasn't sure what had woken him, but then he saw Tony's arm slung across his chest, and Tony's phone sitting on his sternum where the other man had apparently dropped it while falling asleep. It was vibrating gently.

Steve picked it up; the buzzing was just a low-battery alert, and he set it aside, trying not to disturb Tony.

He lay there in the dark, wide awake now, bluish light washing over them from Tony's reactor. It was fine to be here, with Tony sprawled against him, drooling into his shoulder. It had been so much _fun_ , he thought, and that was strange. He hadn't known what to expect, beyond the obvious, but Tony's sheer delight in him, and his own delight in everything...it was unanticipated. Something he'd like to hold onto for himself, whether or not that was possible.

Tony, perhaps reacting belatedly to his movement, snorted and coughed, and his eyes slitted open. 

"Hey," he slurred, when Steve turned his head. "Not sleeping?"

"Not that tired," Steve answered.

"Is the reactor keeping you up?"

"No, it's fine," Steve said, pinning Tony down when he started to sit up. "Just thinking." 

"Isn't that my line?" Tony asked. 

"Well, you're a bad influence."

"No doubt." Tony curled into his arm. "What is it?"

Steve shook his head. "Just...enjoying keeping this for myself, for the moment." 

"You know, if you want to keep this on the down-low, I can do that," Tony said, yawning. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"It's not that I want it to be a secret. I just want to make sure people understand it. I want to protect you too, you know." 

Tony nodded against his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Winghead."

"I want to tell this story right," Steve said. "I don't want it to be cheap or scandalous. I don't want it turned into a talk-show joke." 

"Not like last time?" Tony asked, grinning.

"Poking fun at yourself is one thing, that's...classy, shows you don't take yourself too seriously," Steve said. "This is different."

"You have something in mind?"

"No. I don't know yet." Steve shifted, pressing his face to Tony's forehead. "I'll think of something."

"I know a guy," Tony offered. Steve pulled back to look at him. "Well, a woman, actually. She's not that crazy about me but she'd do it right. Like you said. Classy."

He yawned, and Steve smiled.

"Get some more shuteye. I'll remind you in the morning," he said. Tony nodded, eyes sliding shut. 

***

[](http://51st.tumblr.com/post/46214956429/just-bored-d)   
**Manip by 51stcenturyfox.**


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